Chapter 10

Perry sat down next to Della, sprawling on the steps in an exaggerated state of exhaustion after Valerie excused herself. "Those kids," he declared, "generate more energy than the Hoover Dam. I need a break."

"Don't give me that. You're having the time of your life."

He grinned. "It's not as bad as I thought it would be," he admitted. "I like that Bart's boys are all teenagers. They have personalities now."

She dug him in the ribs with her elbow. "Kids have personalities at all ages. Even Frankie has a personality."

"Laughing and crying on an alternating schedule with eating and dirtying a diaper does not a personality make," he quipped with a twinkle in his eye.

"You enjoyed holding him and you know it."

"I tolerated holding him. I enjoy holding you."

She gazed at him with a blasé gleam in her eye. "Aren't we forward, Mr. Mason."

His grin vanished. "I'm going to be forward until you say stop, Della. I told you that."

"Nowhere in my comment was the word 'stop'." Her voice was low, gentle, but firm.

He took her hand, tangling his fingers with hers. "Are you having a nice day?"

She nodded. "Everyone has been wonderful. And Aunt Ginny told all sorts of stories about when you were a child while we were doing dishes."

"Did she. You do realize she's a bit daft."

Della's eyes sparkled with merriment. "She's perfectly lovely and as far as I can tell, in complete control of her faculties."

"I hope she didn't tell you about the milk bottle."

"No story about a milk bottle. But now you've piqued my curiosity. I'll have another talk with her." She made a move to stand up, but Perry laughed and held fast to her hand.

"Never mind about the milk bottle. Stay here with me until I have to rejoin the game."

She settled herself close to him with a faint rustling of skirts. A slow smile spread across his face. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Your skirt," he replied to her silent question. "It made that noise again."

"That settles it. I will never, ever wear this skirt to the office. Actually, I may never wear it again, period."

"I have a proposition," he said abruptly. "After the tournament and another piece of pie, I'll drive you home and you demonstrate how it makes that noise."

She lowered her eyes to his. "Stop," she said.

He brought her hand to his lips gently. "I see the line drawn in the sand, baby."

One of the boys hollered at him to rejoin the game at that moment. Perry disentangled his fingers from hers and placed his hand atop her head to use as leverage getting to his feet, purposely mussing her hair in the process. She laughed and swatted at his arm. "Show those youngsters how it's done, Chief," she called after him.

Bart turned from the window as his brother strode across the lawn to rejoin his sons in playing the game. He had left the game himself a few moments ago to answer the call of nature and on his way back outside had been presented with the scene of Perry and his secretary on the steps. He couldn't hear their words, but as Valerie had observed, they appeared to communicate easily and with great enjoyment. Grudgingly he had to admit that Miss Street had impressed everyone from Uncle Frank down to Frankie with her open friendliness – as well as with that pointed put-down of football – and unflattering comparisons to Laura Cavanaugh's impression on the family made their way to his mind. He had been in the minority for liking Laura. Whenever she accompanied Perry to family gatherings she spent a great deal of time with him talking about her life in Los Angeles with Perry, about their plans to practice law together, about the parties they hosted and attended, about their travels. He loved Valerie with his entire heart, but there was something about Laura that stirred him. She wasn't as beautiful to him as Valerie, or even Miss Street, but she possessed an air of exposed sex appeal that more than made up for it. He was happy and satisfied with his life as a teacher and coach, with Valerie and their amazing sons, but he sometimes envied Perry his life. The celebrity, the parties, the excitement, Laura. How could Valerie maintain Perry had been unhappy all those years with a woman such as Laura?

He hadn't taken but a few steps from the window when Valerie appeared in the doorway of the mudroom that led to the back deck. She placed her hands on slim hips, filling the space.

"Did you hear what you wanted to hear?" She asked, turning his question from her earlier eavesdropping episode on him.

He smiled. "Didn't hear a thing. I'm inside and they're outside."

"Why don't you go out there and join them?"

"Can't. He left her to continue playing the game."

"Then you should go out and talk with her."

"I've already talked with her," he reminded her, irritated.

"You mean you already talked at her, Bart. Go out and talk to her, this time with an open mind."

"Val, why are you pushing me at her like this? The world won't end if I don't talk to her again today."

"I just thought you might like to get to know your future sister-in-law better," she told him evenly.

"Is this seat taken?"

Della had been expecting Bart to show up eventually after Valerie left. "No. Sit down, please."

Bart sat next to her with the same ease of movement as his brother. "Enjoying the game?"

Della nodded. "I think I now know more about bocce ball than I ever thought I would, considering I've never heard of it before. Your sons are very good. My money is on their team to take the tournament."

Bart laughed. "Don't tell me George and Bob have organized a betting pool!"

"They most certainly have. I just put a dollar on them to win." She grinned. "Of course, I hedged that bet with another on Perry's team."

"You have great loyalty for him, don't you?"

"He appreciates and respects my contributions to his practice," she replied evasively.

"You are nearly as mysterious as my brother, Miss Street."

"Your brother isn't mysterious, Mr. Mason. He's merely a very private person."

Bart studied her profile appreciatively. "There's that loyalty again. And I suspect a comment as well on your own desire to fend off any questions I may ask about you and my brother?"

"Not at all. You may not like the answers I give, but fire away."

Bart laughed out loud. "You sound just like him. All right, I'll dive right in. What are your intentions toward my brother, Miss Street?"

She turned her head and regarded him with bemusement. "That's quite a dive."

"I'm not one for extended small talk."

"I'm accustomed to dealing with that," she told him with a faint smile. "All right, Mr. Mason here goes. My intentions are to be the best secretary Perry has ever had and to assist him in defending his clients to the best of his prodigious abilities."

"Come, come, Miss Street. If those were your only intentions, you wouldn't be here with him today."

Her wide-spaced eyes reminded him of Valerie's – not in color or shape, but in their expressiveness. Their color deepened as the sparkle of amusement fled. "I'm here today because he asked me," she replied calmly. "He's very persuasive."

Bart studied her again, this time face-to-face. "I get it. He's pursuing you. Do you intend to let him catch you?" Valerie was convinced this girl would one day bear his last name. He wanted to know for himself.

She let him study her for a moment longer before replying. "Maybe."

Perry noticed out of the corner of his eye Bart seating himself next to Della, but couldn't extricate himself from the game to run interference. He had no doubt Della could handle his brother, but he didn't want Bart to take the edge off her enjoyment of the day. He could only imagine what Bart might be saying, and he fervently hoped he wouldn't mention Laura Cavanaugh. Bart had been taken in by Laura's accomplishments and her affected charm, by the plans she had made for when he eventually married her. Laura had deluded herself for a long time that their relationship was headed toward permanence, that their volatile conversations and incinerating physical encounters were aberrations and not the norm.

Just as Perry found an excuse to leave the game, Della stood up and walked away from Bart, leaving him to join a group of his cousin's wives who were tending the youngest Mason boys. He decided to brave another discussion with his brother and made his way to the wooden steps once more.

Bart waited until his brother took a seat next to him to speak. "Too late. I've already scared her away."

"I doubt that," Perry countered matter-of-factly. "She probably tired of your intrusive questions and sought refuge elsewhere. I told you earlier she could take care of herself."

"I should have listened to you," Bart admitted ruefully. "She's pretty much had me for lunch today."

Perry laughed. "Imagine how my days are with her. I often don't know if I'm coming or going."

Bart reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offered it to Perry, and the brothers lit up from a single match.

"I'm not entirely pleased you have such affection for your secretary, Perry."

"Then it's a good thing your opinion in that regard means less than nothing to me."

Bart blew twin streams of smoke through his nostrils in annoyance. "Dammit, Perry –"

"Bart," Perry interrupted, "all my life I've gotten nothing but disapproval from you. I'm immune to it. What I'm not immune to is Della."

Bart sucked on his cigarette almost viciously. "But it's so clichéd and beneath you to be involved with your secretary."

Perry stubbed out his cigarette on the step and tossed it into the bushes. Let the gardener deal with it. "Bart, that lady is heads and shoulders above me in every human aspect and I won't have you disparaging her or what you suppose our relationship might be. She saved my practice after the incompetent secretary Laura hired nearly wrecked my reputation and impugned my integrity. Any success I've had recently is directly related to her and what she brings to my life, and I thank the Lord for placing her on my doorstep when I needed her so desperately."

"In other words, she's 'the one'?" Bart had never seen his brother like this, a combination of steeliness and vulnerability. It was also the most frank, honest conversation he'd ever had with him. Maybe he could open his mind to Miss Street if she was the root of Perry's personality shift.

Perry stole a look toward where Della was seated with the Mason wives. Frankie had once again found his way into her arms, and she was having an animated one-sided conversation with the baby, who grinned delightedly at her every word. The smile that overtook his brother's face reminded Bart of how he must look at Valerie. He had to hand it to his wife. She may have gotten it right and Miss Street would someday be Mrs. Perry Mason.

"I've never been so sure about anything in my life," Perry said with simple conviction.

Bart ground out his own cigarette and followed Perry's lead by tossing it into the bushes. He gravely extended his hand. "Then let me be the first to congratulate you, little brother."

"Now that's what I like to see," Valerie said behind them. "Brothers getting along." She insinuated herself between them on the step and linked arms with each. "This was my Thanksgiving wish. My husband and his brother together for the holiday, getting along."

Bart and Perry exchanged glances over her head. "We've managed a temporary truce," Bart told his wife.

"Della will draw up it up on Monday for signature," Perry added.

"You'd make her work for something she was responsible for?"

Bart and Perry exchanged glances again over her head. "It probably should be kept in the family," Bart said casually.

Valerie's smile was huge. "I knew it!" she exclaimed.

Perry ducked his head and put a finger to his lips. "Shhh, Val. There are several carts in front of the horse here."

"Nonsense. Even Frankie can see how you two feel about each other. Just tell her, Perry."

"Truce, remember? No more telling me what I should or should not do. It's complicated enough. And for the love of Mike, don't tell anyone, including Della."

Bart shrugged. "I've gotten exactly nowhere with either of them, Val. The only person more stubborn than Miss Street is Perry, and the only person more enigmatic than Perry is Miss Street."

"She has a first name," Perry reminded him tartly.

"I noticed that she doesn't call you by your first name." Bart leaned forward to see past his wife.

Perry smiled almost to himself. "It's a private joke."

"God, just sweep her off her feet and marry her before I get nauseous from the romance of it all." Valerie shook his arm.

Perry tensed suddenly. "Val, don't. I told you, it's complicated."

Valerie laid her head on his shoulder briefly. "All right, brother-in-law. I'll leave it to you to handle your own love life. And I promise Bart won't interfere anymore either."

"Now wait a minute, Val," Bart protested.

"Would you get lost, honey? I haven't had any alone time with Perry today."

"That's a fine way to speak to your adoring husband," he grumbled, getting to his feet. "I'll have you know if I didn't want another piece of pie I wouldn't budge."

Valerie was silent until Bart had slammed the back door. She grimaced slightly. "Sometimes that man vexes me."

"He's always vexed me," Perry said.

"He's meant well, Perry. He felt thrust into fatherhood when your father died."

"I needed and wanted a brother," Perry told her pointedly.

"It's not too late. You can still have a brother."

"Not if he treats Della badly."

"Speaking of treating Della badly, how much do you pay the girl?"

Perry frowned. What did Della's salary have to do with anything? "It would be entirely unprofessional for me to answer that, Val."

"I want to make sure you're doing right by her. I like her."

His frown deepened, even though it was good to hear Valerie had gotten over her initial stand-offish reaction. "There isn't a way to ascribe a salary to her value, but she's compensated generously for a legal secretary of her experience."

Valerie leaned her head against Perry's shoulder with a tiny sigh. Bart was right. The only person more enigmatic than her brother-in-law was the lovely Miss Street.