That Saturday, the ladies met up for breakfast and then headed over to Estelle's Bridals. Gertie had confided what she wanted in a wedding gown to Della, laying the groundwork to ask her about her own preference later. Hannah, overwhelmed by the beautiful dresses and the experience in general, wandered around the boutique. Della checked on her daughter occasionally, but tried to keep Gertie focused. But when she saw a spectacular gown on display, she stopped in her tracks and drew in her breath. It was the kind of fashion that only Hollywood royalty would wear. Her absorption did not go unnoticed.

"Della," Gertie whispered, "I don't think I've ever seen you so captivated by a gown before! How about trying that on? I can keep an eye on Hannah while I continue to search for my gown."

She looked at her friend with a puzzled expression. "I don't know, Gertie. I mean, if I were going to go through something like what you and Paul have planned, it would make sense. But Perry and I haven't talked about that." A dreamy look came over her face. "We were married at the lodge. There wasn't much time for shopping or alterations."

Gertie sighed. Biting her thumbnail, she debated with herself on how to convince her much-too-smart friend to take the plunge. In the end, it was Hannah who provided the clencher.

"Momma, just look at all of these gorgeous dresses! I wish my doll had a gown like that one!" the little girl pointed to a turquoise dress in the window.

Della smiled at her. "You love blue, don't you?"

Hannah just nodded. "But I think you look good in other colors."

Gertie seized on the subject like it was a liferaft. "Yes, you do! White is one of your best!"

She laughed at that. "I think you have weddings on the brain."

"I agree with Gertie, Momma," Hannah informed her. "White is one of the colors that makes Daddy swallow hard!"

She looked down at her daughter in surprise. "Does it?" At Hannah's nod, she shook her head in bemused wonder. "Alright. You've twisted my arm. What harm is there in modeling it?"

"Thank you, Momma." Hannah smiled brightly. "I just wish I had my camera. Then we could take your picture and put it beside the other one."

Della signaled the assistant and indicated which dress she wanted to try. Gertie put her hands on Hannah's shoulder and leaned down to whisper, "You'll never know how much that helped."

Once Della was out of earshot, Gertie informed the owner of Perry's plan. Then, remembering his instructions to her just before Della had arrived, she asked Estelle to find a fur-lined winter cape, if the gown did not come with one. Knowing that the dress was for the wife of the great attorney, she made sure all accessories, plus a coordinating veil, were pulled aside for Della to try.

Meanwhile, as the assistant stepped back and smoothed the train, Della stared at her reflection in the Cheval mirror. Her slender frame was not without curves, and the gown emphasized them in just the right, tasteful way. The almost ivory cast of the dress looked superb with her peaches and cream complexion. But what stopped Della in her thoughts was how radiantly happy she looked.

Is this how I would have looked floating down that aisle toward Perry? And what would his eyes have said? Have done? Would he have drawn in a quick breath like he does just before he objects to Mr. Burger, or would he have smiled that shy smile and looked down at his hands? A small tear escaped and she swiped at it in annoyance. You're being silly and wasting time, Della Street! You made your choice ten years ago. Do you really have any regrets? She lifted her chin in determination. "Time to model it for the peanut gallery."

She stepped out to the showing area where Gertie and Hannah waited. Gertie's mouth opened and then her jaw dropped. She was speechless, and that, Della knew, was the biggest compliment of all. Hannah looked bewildered, as though she simply could not understand that the mother who went into the dressing room was the same one standing before her. Her blue eyes widened and then she broke into a pleased smile.

"Momma, you are absolutely beautiful! I love this gown on you. You look like–like an angel." Her words came out in a babbling rush.

"Oh, Della, I can just picture Mr. Mason's–I mean, Perry's–expression when–" Gertie caught herself just in time. Della, sidetracked by Hannah, had missed the slip. The blonde smoothly sidetracked them to a different rack of dresses more suited to the Christmas Eve gala. Then, after making sure Della was once again engaged with the dress hunt, she came over to the assistant and said, "You made sure to record her measurements? Perfect. I will need you to order the dress she just modeled, and all of the accessories. Charge it to Mr. Mason's account, and ship it to this address." She wrote Mae Kirby's address carefully. "This transaction is separate from the other gowns we'll purchase. And," she looked both the assistant and the owner in the eyes, "Mrs. Mason is not to know about this."

Perry is going to be in tears when he sees her walk down the aisle in that gown, she admitted to herself. The hopeless romantic in her sighed. Then she straightened her posture and rejoined her party.

On the other side of town Perry and his youngest, Andrew, joined forces with Paul and his son, Paul, Jr. The time had come for Andrew and Paulie to be fitted for their first tuxedos.

"You and Della must be tired of hearing this, Perry, but I can't believe how much Andrew looks like you," the tailor commented when they walked in.

Since Andrew's birth, everyone always commented that he was Perry's doppelgänger, which didn't bother him at all. After experiencing a difficult pregnancy, Della and Perry were just happy Andrew was healthy. As he grew, his resemblance to his father grew, too. And yet, when Andrew was sleeping or concentrating on his train set, Perry noticed how much he favored his mother. Focused, yes, but also dark hair with traces of chestnut, and a nose that screamed: STREET.

"Morning, George," he greeted the man warmly, "We're here to get Andrew and Paulie fitted."

George swept the two boys in a quick, but appraising glance. "And just how old are you two? And what's the occasion?"

Paulie, blonde curls framing his face, held up one palm and a spare index finger. But Andrew, who had been taught that when an adult answers a question, he was to respond with polite honesty, replied, "We're six, sir. And Daddy hasn't told me why we are wearing the monkey suits." He looked back at Perry, whose face turned a pale. "Daddy, will we get to wear masks, too?"

He laughed. "It isn't that kind of monkey suit, Andrew." Then, to George he apologized by way of explanation, "These two young gentlemen are going to attend a gala on the 24th."

George raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "My goodness! At age six, that is a very big thing! I hope you both know how to dance!"

Paulie groaned. "Dad didn't say nothin' about havin' to dance! I didn't even know there was gonna be girls there!"

Paul turned beet red. "I told you Mom and I were–oh, never mind! Paul, you are going, and that is final. And you're going to wear a tuxedo, and that's final, too."

Andrew started to laugh. He covered his face with his hands. Then his father's big hand closed down on his shoulder and he tried to swallow his laugh into a straight face. That set Paulie off. He chortled and chortled. Andrew lost his battle and started to laugh, too. Then Perry cleared his throat and shook his head at his son.

"Sorry, Daddy," Andrew muttered.

"Let's get down to it," George suggested. "Which of you boys wants to go first?"

"Andrew," Paul, Paulie and Perry chorused.

Andrew tried to shy away from George as he knelt next to the boy. "This won't hurt a bit, my good man. It might be a little cold, but it is totally painless."

"You'll be fine, Andrew. He's not going to hurt you," Perry reassured him with a smile. Andrew looked up at him, then shook his head. "C'mon buddy. We want to look our best for Momma, right?"

Andrew allowed George to take his measurements. "Is that all?" he asked in surprise when the man finished. "Daddy, why do you hate this part so much?"

Perry laughed softly. "I don't hate it, I just prefer to model the finished product."

Paul shot him a sideward glance. "Sure, Pal. And I love going to the dentist, but prefer walking out after the procedure."

When all was said and done (and measured), Perry treated his son and friends to a manly lunch of burgers, fries and apple pie from the park and let the boys run off some of their pent-up energy.

Hours later, father and son returned home to find Della and Hannah already back. Andrew rushed to his mother and gave her big hug before catapulting upstairs to play with his train set. Perry grinned at his wife and slipped his arm around her waist.

"And just what have you been doing this afternoon, Adorable?"

She led them to the living room. "What do you think? Hannah and I finished the last of the decorating in here. The stockings are hung, and the mistletoe has been, as well. And no, I am not telling you where it is. We decided to let you find it. When you do, she and I are going to line up for kisses!"

Perry withdrew his arm and pretended to start looking around for it. She punched him, then drew his arm back around her. He looked down at her in reverence, overcome by just how special his wife was in the ordinary moments of her day. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled.

"What?"

She blushed, then shook her head. "Nothing. Just a memory."

He captured her mouth in a sweet kiss, but didn't deepen it. "Better tell me, Mrs. Mason."

"Hannah found our wedding picture the other day."

He waited, sure there was more to the story. Her smile widened.

"I told her about our unconventional wedding attire and how impatient you were about getting married."

Understanding turned his eyes the color of a summer sky. "What a day! I was more than eager. I was about to spontaneously combust!" He kissed her again. "You didn't, uh, divulge details about our private celebration afterward?"

"Most certainly not." She looked at him pointedly. "You better behave yourself, Mr. Mason. There are tender eyes and ears in this house."

He snorted. "The sponge is upstairs. He soaks up everything I say, and somehow, just when I least expect it, out it comes, squeezed and oozing."

She looked at him strangely. "What happened?"

Relating the events with George, he concluded by saying, "I had no choice but to take them to the park to work off all that stamina."

A wicked gleam came into her hazel eyes. "Are you telling me you've run out of stamina yourself?"

He tsked-tsked her. "Mrs. Mason! What about those tender eyes and ears?"

She draped her arms around his neck. "I think it is important for Hannah and Andrew to know that their wise, sophisticated mother is mad about their wily, sexy father."

That was all the invitation he needed. Within seconds they were lost in each other's kisses and whispers. Then, in a surprise move, Perry scooped up his wife and ascended the stairs.

"Perry!" she exclaimed, but he cut off her protest with another heated kiss.

Only after they crossed the threshold of their bedroom and locked the door, did he lower his wife to her feet. "I hope you're making note of this," he said, a delicious blue devil dancing in his eyes, "My stamina is never to come into question again."