These characters are the creation and property of ESG. Rebekah Mason, Sonia Hill, and I are borrowing them for this holiday story. Please enjoy.

An eight-year-old Hannah Mason was helping her mother, Della Street-Mason, set up their family room for Christmas when she happened to spot an old picture of her parents. Lifting it up to study more closely, she squinted, determined to make out the features surrounding her mother and father. Then, with a touch of excitement, she hustled over to where her mother was carefully arranging candles on the mantle.

"Momma, what's this?" Hannah asked with just enough curiosity to pique Della's attention.

Della looked down, saw the picture she was holding, and smiled. The crow's feet at the corners of her eyes deepened and her dimples flashed. The image was her and Perry's wedding photo. Unlike traditional wedding pictures, this one had the happy couple in ski jackets and jeans. She bit her lip in an effort to hold in her laugh, but it was no use.

"That's our wedding picture," she said softly, and then she ran a gentle hand through her daughter's hair. "Unusual, isn't it?"

"Wait, wedding picture?" Hannah asked in consternation. "I thought brides wore white, and grooms wore tuxedos!"

Della chuckled at her confusion, then suggested, "Why don't we take a break from all this decorating? Let's sit together, and I'll tell you all about it." Coming over to the loveseat, she sank onto the cushion, then patted her lap for her daughter. Once Hannah was situated, she began.

"Why did you get married like that?" Hannah ventured, confusion clear in her eyes. "I thought people went skiing on vacation, or on a honeymoon."

Della didn't respond to that. Instead, she explained, "Yes, this is our wedding picture. You see, Daddy was impatient and wanted to get married as soon as possible."

Hannah laughed. "I know how he gets when he's excited. I'm the same way, Momma."

"Um-hm, I know. That's one of many, many traits you've inherited from him. But, if you want a detailed list, I'll have to table this story for another time . . ."

"No," Hannah fairly shouted, "I want to hear about the wedding!"

"I remember it was cold," Della started and her eyes took on a dreamy quality as her voice grew rich and warm, "Colder than was forecast, at any rate . . ."

Della and Perry had taken a vacation to the mountains in Southern California after a particularly draining case. They had spent plenty of time hiking the trails, roaming the pathways few others dared to trod, and eating wonderful, much-too-rich-for-them food in the resort. It was a wonderful vacation but close to the end, Perry had taken her back to their favorite spot in the mountains.

Perry had wrapped his arms around her, just standing there, looking forward. Her eyes had followed his, and it felt as if they could stand that way forever. It was the moment she truly felt them merge into one soul. As they stood there, Perry put his mouth next to her ear and whispered his innermost thoughts, dreams and wishes. She had turned fractionally, staring not at the scenery, but into the fathomless depths of his blue eyes. He was looking at her with a look of love that nearly arrested her heart.

Della knew the question was coming. It seemed like for the past year, every time a hard case concluded… Perry would propose to her.

"From the moment you walked into my office, Della—lightning struck, and I was gobsmacked. I fell instantly head over heels in love with you. The remarkable thing of it is, you've seen me at my very worst, and you never left. You've never faltered. And I know. . . I know I've asked before, and I know you've told me no, but . . . I'm to that point, Della. After all we've been through, the good times, and the rough times, and the sleepless times, and the depressing times–the fact remains that I love you . . . My love has never changed, but it has grown. So, I'm going to ask you again: Marry me, Della?"

Perry held her close as he waited for her answer. He could feel her emotions, could feel her shaking with longing and fear, and excitement, and he allowed himself to hope. Della looked at him with tears in her eyes, and then she nodded.

"Yes, Perry Mason. Yes, I will marry you." Della said firmly, yet with a quivering voice. A moment later she was eagerly meeting her fiance's kisses with wonderful abandon. When she at last broke for breath, she added, "I love you, Perry Mason. Always have, always will."

"Did Daddy take you out dancing to celebrate?" Hannah broke in.

Della laughed softly. "If memory serves, dancing was a small part of our celebration."

Once they made it back to the warmth of their cabin, Perry continued to kiss his fiancé with fervor and passion. He wanted to continue the celebration in bed and show her how much he loved her, which he did all night.

"Let's get married tomorrow, Della," Perry suggested recklessly. He had that adorable smile and his dimples flashed. His eagerness was boyish and charming, and she had almost no defense.

Della sighed, "Why is it, every time you get a bright idea and want to run headlong toward it, I have to be the practical one? Darling, this is going to take time. Besides, it is a little embarrassing for the bride to be engaged all of one day. People are going to assume I have to get married."

Hannah put a hand on her mother's arm. "Momma, why would people assume that? If you're engaged, wouldn't you have to get married? I don't understand why that is so embarrassing."

"Now I've done it," Della said with a small blush. "Hannah, when a woman says that she has to get married, it means that she has a, uh, medical reason. And a mathematical one." Then, before Hannah could sort out that meaning, she dove back into her account.

"We have to get everything set up, Perry. You and I both know this is going to take some time, even with your connections. I love you, but can't we wait for a few months to have our families in LA?"

He knew she was right, and Della knew he was being impatient. But his fear of her changing her mind overruled his logical faculties. "Della, forget about the formalities. We love each other. Why not make that official now?"

"But that, Darling, is what I am talking about! To make it official, we have to wait."

"Stupid laws," he muttered, and was rewarded with one of her deep chuckles. "How about this, then . . . We wait out the three days, and still get married. Here."

She looked at him for a long moment, unsure she had heard him correctly. "You, Perry Mason, are willing to wait the three days it will take for us to be married here?"

He nodded. "I would suggest we hightail it for Yuma, but . . . it's more romantic and beautiful here."

She sighed. "Very well, Mr. Mason. You win." The newly engaged couple nodded as Della leaned in for a kiss.

Once all the arrangements were made, and the license was in hand, they were married.

"And that, young lady, is the story of the Street-Mason nuptials. Now then, this room is not going to decorate itself!" Hannah and Della put on a Christmas record and then placed the finishing touches on the mantle.

Unbeknownst to them, Perry had also revisited the memory of his wedding. The same picture that had captivated Hannah had also sucked him into the past. More than any other thing in his life, Perry considered his marriage to Della his greatest success. After so many failed attempts to woo and wed her, he had been ready to admit defeat–but never surrender. But the moment they had arrived, he had known he had to try again.

Then, when he had seen the picture, Perry realized he had truly been too eager to give Della the wedding of her dreams. How many times since their wedding weekend had her aunt Mae confided to him about Della's childhood dreams of a white dress, and of seeing her groom waiting for her as she floated down a church aisle? Too many times. He had replaced the picture where he had found it, but an idea had taken root. . .

I want to give Della the formal wedding we never had. I owe her so much for everything she's done and put up with these ten years. And if I can work it, I might be able to include Hannah and Andrew in the ceremony! She'd love that. But how . . . ? How do I pull it off? Paul! I'll need his help. And that means I'll have to enlist Gertie, too.

As the plan took shape, the idea to do it on Christmas Eve at the chapel at the ski lodge property appealed to him. He could just picture Della arriving at the chapel in a horse-drawn carriage and then, after the ceremony, the family would all ride together to a private dinner at the lodge. Then he and Della would tuck Hannah and Andrew in bed before retiring to their own bedroom for a more private celebration.