A few weeks later

Della sat down across the kitchen table from Perry and opened her leather folder. It was their custom after a case to sit down and sort through all the paperwork, deciding what could be shredded and what had to go in the file for the records.

Meeting notes, shred. Contract, file. Trial transcripts, file. Angry letter to Laura? Shred. It was behind them now, and in 48 hours, they'd be on the deck of an ocean liner.

Perry was still working to sort all of his papers after Della had finished hers, so she left him working to retrieve the empty file folders and type up the appropriate labels.

Perry zipped his tidied portfolio and set it to the side, moving to sort through the To-File pile and put it in some sort of an order. He heard Della down the hall, the keys of her typewriter clicking as she made out the labels. It amused him that she still preferred that giant metal monstrosity over the computer for certain tasks, but he'd learned not to argue.

Everything seemed to be in order, except for the bail agreement. He'd just seen it a few moments ago-it had probably wound up in the shred pile by mistake. Perry reached for the shred pile at the end of the table and sifted through the documents.

He stopped short when he found a folded piece of lined paper in Della's hand-not the only one in the pile, by any means, but the only one that began with, "Dear Mrs. Robertson."

He opened the letter and fumbled for his reading glasses. It was time to get to the bottom of this, once and for all.

Perry had only read the first few lines of the letter, when a sudden urge hit him. He tucked the letter into the pocket of his suit jacket, and made his way down the hall to his study. Closing the door behind him, he sat down at his desk, pulled out his favorite fountain pen (the one he used to sign only his most important documents), and got to work.

It was just a short while later that Perry twisted the cap back onto his pen, refolded the letter, and laid them both down in front of him. Steepling his hands in front of him, he leaned forward on his elbows, and pressed his hands against his forehead.

His usual habit of making notations on legal documents was not lost on him, certainly not when he had such an important letter in front of him. Reading Della's words, well….the first thing he felt was a swell of love and pride at what she had written. She had certainly given Laura exactly what she deserved, he marvelled. The second feeling though, was a dawning of understanding. The sudden strike of intuition that he usually got in the courtroom, now hit him full force. This is what he had interrupted that day in their hotel suite, he was almost certain. There must have been some sort of dialogue between the two - Laura had obviously made a comment about how Della had never married, at least according to the letter. That was surely what had set her off. After all, they were as good as married, and Della, who never judged other people no matter what they said or did, had never liked the idea that someone might judge her. Laura had no doubt been pleased by her remark. And Della. His beautiful, kind, warm Della….she had probably wanted to strike Laura. Well, either Laura or Perry himself. Perhaps the both of them.

A delighted chuckle escaped his lips when he thought of the look on Laura's face if Della had let loose with her diatribe at that moment in time. What he would have given to have been a fly on the wall for that. Della could be rather...colorful with her language, when she got a full head of steam. She had to be awfully angry to let herself get to that point, though.

His mind drifted off as he thought of the woman he had loved for over 40 years.

Della was sweet, and loving - and unfailingly polite, even to people who didn't warrant her kindness, but she had a stubborn streak, a spine of steel, and the ability to defend herself and those she loved, without hesitation. The first time that he met her was when she arrived at his office 10 minutes early for an interview. She had answered the ad he had put in the LA Times, after his then secretary had suddenly announced that she was ready to retire, and move with her husband to Arizona. When he opened the door to call her in, he was struck by the beauty of the most glorious creature he had laid eyes on. During her interview, she presented herself as both professional and feminine, and Perry knew he would hire her before she even finished the interview. Over the years, Della had proven to be as brilliant as she was beautiful, and never did a day go by that he wasn't supremely grateful that she had agreed to work for him.

Now he was back to the question of knowing what to do with the letter. Perry picked it up again, and tapped the end against the palm of his free hand. Should he give it to her, or respect her wishes that it be shredded with the rest of the paperwork they no longer needed? If he did give it to her, when would be the appropriate time? Perhaps he should-

"Perry?"

He heard her voice first, then the click-click-click of her heels on the hardwood floors outside the room.

Moving as quickly as he could, Perry shoved the letter inside the bottom right hand drawer of the desk. He'd keep it there until he decided what to do. No sense in getting Della worked up again with talk of Laura; certainly not when as soon as the files were labelled and properly put away, they'd be packing for their cruise. Perry managed to shut the drawer, prop his elbow on top of the desk, and lean against his fist in what he hoped was a nonchalant way.

"Excuse me, Chief." The use of the first nickname she had ever given him brought a smile to his face, as she peeked her head around the side of the door, flashing a grin to match his. "I've finished the labels. Now, since I know how much you love paperwork, and since I don't want to begin an epic battle of wills - I'd like to make you a deal. Care to hear it?"

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt. I assume that it will be mutually beneficial to both parties, Ms. Street?" Della had walked over to Perry, and as soon as she got close enough, he took her hand, and pulled her to sit on his lap.. "Actually, I can think of quite a few things that would be mutually beneficial….and I can assure you, none of them involve paperwork in any way."

Della threw her head back, and laughed. "I'll allow you to make your case later tonight, Mr. Mason. For now, my proposition to you is this: I tackle the filing," she grinned, knowing that Perry would do just about anything to avoid paperwork, "and you prepare us a couple of steaks for dinner. I don't know about you, but I'm famished." She leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. "What do you say?"

"Is that all you want? I must admit, I'm more than a bit disappointed, but since it's apparent that I'm getting the less tedious part of the bargain, then you have yourself a deal. A couple of steaks versus filing? I don't even have to think about it."

"Uh-uh. Not so fast, Counselor. You also need to make a salad, side dishes, and pick out the appropriate wine. I want a proper meal. Bread included." Another kiss, this time to his lips, followed.

"You've got it, darling - two steaks, wine, and all the trimmings."

"Perry?" Della pulled away slightly, and looked into his eyes. "Why do I suddenly get the feeling that there's something you're not saying?"

"Me? Did you ever bother to think that if there's something I'm not saying, it's because I've been struck speechless by your stunning beauty? As I am every time I look at you."

She eyed him skeptically, but gave him a quick squeeze and a kiss before extricating herself from his embrace, to head back to the kitchen. "Uh-huh. Let's go, Counselor. I'm not certain I believe your story, but I'm much too hungry to investigate further. Besides," Della made a face of utter disdain. "The sooner we put this case to bed, the better I'll like it. I'll meet you in the kitchen in 5 minutes. Don't be late."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Perry replied to her retreating back. He pulled the letter from the drawer, and tucked it into the case file. He'd make his decision on what to do with it later.