How Long is Forever
Chapter 2
Della's marriage to Michael Domenico had been, in no particular order, a dream come true (for her mother and the rest of Chicago high society), a duty (she owed the Domenico family for countless things), and an earth-shattering error of epic proportions (for herself, and in a way, for Michael) from the very start. When she had filed for divorce, the whole town was in shock. After all, they had been considered the perfect couple. Michael, the star quarterback and Della, the homecoming queen.
The wedding had been an elaborate affair; her mother took over all the planning, from colors to corsages. Della's dress had been custom ordered from the most expensive shop in Chicago, and the invitations had been engraved by a company whose pedigree predated Jamestown. Everyone who was anyone in the town attended. There were ten bridesmaids, and the town florist shop had been bought out of flowers. At her mother's command, her father had rented the country club for the reception. Dinner had been steak and lobster with all the trimmings. Sometimes, when she had the misfortune on reflecting on the night, Della often admitted she only married the man to get the dinner!
So, when eight months after the wedding, Della had decided to end the marriage, her family had been horrified. But Michael's older sister had helped Della when she told both families of Michael's treatment of her. Della told them of the mental abuse, how he held her responsible for each of his business failures. But worse was the physical abuse. Of course, Michael never hit her where the bruises would show. The final blow, literally, had come when Michael had punched her in the stomach, causing the loss of their child. The blow had also caused severe damage to her internal organs. The doctor who treated her bluntly informed her she might never bear another child.
The divorce had been granted, with a stipulation that Michael have no contact with her. Della had refused any type of alimony. That was the day her mother stopped speaking to her. Her father, her staunch supporter in the family and the man who more than anything wanted to lay hands on the man who had hurt his beloved daughter and begged her to give her mother time. But all the abuse, coupled by the dread of waiting for the divorce decree, had taught Della that time was one commodity she would never frivolously give away again. Thus, the day after the papers had been filed, Della had phoned her aunt Mae in California and asked if she could come to stay with her.
Her aunt had been delighted, so Della had packed her belongings and boarded a train for California, without any goodbyes and without looking back.
Her first job, working in the secretarial pool of a large law firm, had proved to be more than she had bargained for. Between the gossipy, catty women in the pool and the young wolves who thought the secretaries were fair game, she knew she had to find a different job.
Two weeks after handing in her resignation, Della sat in a cozy restaurant looking through the want ads. She had circled several possible positions, but she had to admit, none of them really sounded like what she was looking for. She was about to leave when a tall, buxom redhead literally flounced into the restaurant.
Striding to the bar, she slammed her purse down, slapping the wooden top to get the owner's attention.
"Clay, get me a double scotch, no ice!"
The man quickly set the drink in front of her, hiding a smile when she picked up the glass and drained the liquid in two large gulps.
"Another!"
With his eyes still twinkling but his mouth straight, he advised, "Now Cindy, you better take it easy on that stuff. What did he do this time?"
The woman sat on one of the stools, shaking her head. "Told me I'd have to put my weekend plans on hold, just in case something new came in on his current client."
Clay once again tried to hide a smile. "Cindy, you knew what you were getting into. We tried to warn you. Mr. Mason expects a lot from all his staff."
Della listened intently, wondering about this boss. The redhead was apparently out of sorts over a lost weekend—although, with further drinking like that, her plans might succeed—and blamed her boss. Della shifted her observation to the man behind the counter. Obviously the man called Clay knew this Mr. Mason quite well.
"Yeah, well, he'll be doing it without me. I quit!"
The surprise was evident on the Clay's face. "Cindy, you don't just quit Perry Mason and expect a good reference."
"I don't care. I've got plenty of qualifications. I'll be fine. Now where's that drink?"
Della had quietly left the restaurant, heading for the nearest phone booth. Looking up the name, she discovered Perry Mason, Attorney-at-Law was in a building that was right next door to the restaurant. Making sure she had a copy of her résumé, she lifted her chin and her hazel eyes sparked in determination. She entered the Brent Building for the first time, with no idea this was the beginning of her future.