Thanks for the lovely sentiments! A new job took all of my energy for a long time, but I'm happy to be back reading and writing!
CHAPTER 2
He signed his name with his usual bold hybrid of printing and cursive, legible and recognizable: Perry Mason and Della Street. He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, bursting with pride that she was here with him, so beautiful and poised.
A hand clapped down on his shoulder. "Perry!"
"Hello, Max. It's great to see you." His fingers caressed Della's arm. "This is Della."
Max Parrish, father of the bride, decked out in a tuxedo with tails, broke into a pleased smile. "Of course! What a pleasure to finally put a face to a name. Glad you could come, Della."
Della extended her hand and Max Parrish enthusiastically shook it. "I am, too. And I'm glad to meet you after so many years of talking to you on the telephone."
"Not nearly as glad as I am to finally meet the beautiful woman with the beautiful voice."
"It's my pleasure. I wouldn't have missed this for the world. I love weddings."
"So do I, usually," Max replied, lowering his voice a bit. "My wife has always called me a hopeless romantic." He sighed and turned to Perry Mason. "It's been too long, Perry."
"Yes, it has been." Why did he think Max's attitude wasn't as jovial as it was a moment ago? "Where are the women in your life?" Introducing Max Parrish to Della had gone well, but introducing Laura Parrish to her could be one of the most difficult things he had ever done if the mother-of-the-bride wasn't on her best behavior.
Max laughed with great affection. "They're upstairs giggling and primping. I haven't seen either one of them since early this morning." He looked past Perry Mason over his shoulder, nodding toward a dark-haired tuxedoed young man entering the spacious foyer serving as a reception area. "There's the groom, Gary Hawkes."
Perry glanced at the bridegroom briefly. "Ah. A handsome young man. You must be proud."
"He's a star on a daytime soap opera, One Life for Tomorrow," Della said, craning her neck to follow the young man as he exited the foyer. "I happened to see that soap once."
Perry's eyes held a special twinkle as he squeezed Della's arm. "You happened to see it twice. I saw it once." He caught Max Parrish's eye. "As far as soap operas go it wasn't that bad."
The father of the bride frowned and shook his head. "Whoever thought I'd be father-in-law to Brad Hawkes's boy. It's a strange world, Perry." He grasped Perry Mason's hand in a hearty handshake. "Well, duty calls. Enjoy yourselves!"
Della moved closer to Perry as Max Parrish vanished into a throng of arriving guests, while a string quartet played through all of Vivaldi's four seasons. "Please tell me who Brad Hawkes is and why the world is strange."
"Brad Hawkes was Max's co-founding partner in his talent agency. The partnership broke up and they never spoke to one another again. Brad died a couple years ago in a car accident along with his wife."
"How awful for Gary!" Parrish Talent Promotions. Why hadn't she connected the dots before now?
Perry nodded, slipping his arm around her waist, enjoying the music and being with her. "The boy took it hard and it was his relationship with Kaitlynn that pulled him through the grief. And here he comes again." He pulled Della closer as the young man approached them. "Mr. Hawkes, this is Della Street, and I am Perry Mason."
Gary Hawkes, slightly built and with the highly styled long hair favored by young men nowadays grasped the attorney's outstretched hand. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Mason. Kay always says you're her favorite uncle."
Perry cleared his throat. "I'm her only uncle."
Did she know Kaitlynn called Perry 'uncle'? Della searched repressed memories. Yes, she knew. Kaitlynn called him uncle and he'd always liked having a little girl call him that since his brother had presented him with only nephews. She chuckled suddenly to herself, remembering how Perry had replied to the groom.
Gary Hawkes popped a little salute. "Well, Mr. Mason, I'm honored you could attend our wedding." He nodded toward Della. "And it was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Street."
Perry tugged Della away from the guest book podium. "What a nice young man," she observed. "Nothing like the character he plays on One Life for Tomorrow."
"Miss Street, are you star-struck?"
Della snorted, and Perry grinned. "Mr. Mason, the bride and groom are only minor celebrities compared to you, and I've known for many years exactly how you put your pants on."
Perry hugged her to his side, still grinning. "And not one woman here is as beautiful and accomplished as you, Miss Street."
"Keep saying things like that and you may be a very lucky man tonight."
Perry guffawed and more than a few heads swiveled in their direction as a murmur of recognition passed through the enormous reception foyer. "As lucky as I was this afternoon?"
She gave him a sidelong glance, eyes sparkling. "Maybe more."
Before he could respond, a young woman dressed in an off-the-shoulder white taffeta blouse and long black skirt walked boldly up to them. Her hair, brassy blonde and piled on her head in a curly up-do, only detracted from her attractiveness. "Mr. Mason," she said in a raspy voice, "I'm Hannah Hawkes, Gary's sister. I'm a big fan of yours."
Perry shook her hand. "Ah, the maid of honor."
Della wondered how he knew Hannah Hawkes was the maid of honor and if she would be introduced to her.
Hannah cocked her head to the side. "I just wanted to tell you that I've studied all your cases, and I hope I'm half as good as you are some day."
Della suspected Perry's ego was about to be massaged, and that she would not be introduced as he inquired of Hannah Hawkes, "You're a lawyer?"
Hannah ducked her head with a touch of flirty humility. "Knock on wood. Up to a few years ago I thought I was a singer...but that didn't work out so I switched tracks. I take the bar next week. Wish me luck?"
"I certainly do," Perry replied gallantly.
Hannah beamed. "Thank you. Maybe we can talk later?"
Perry bowed. "Of course we can."
Hannah Hawkes bestowed a radiant smile on Perry Mason and walked away with a sway to her hips that had not been present on her approach, never bothering to be introduced to her idol's companion.
"And that is exactly why I chose to attend the ceremony," Della announced once Hannah Hawkes was out of earshot.
Perry turned to her, a confused look on his face. "What?"
She patted his arm. "Never mind, darling. Let's find seats and make up stories about all the guests."
They turned toward the room where shiny white resin chairs had been arranged for the ceremony just as an elegant woman with shining blonde hair cut in a chic, sleek bob and dressed similarly to the maid of honor in a white poufy-sleeved organza blouse and long black skirt glided down the grand curving staircase. A red rose bud held in one gloved hand, the other hand floating at her side, feet never appearing to touch a single stair, she abruptly halted and smiled with what appeared to be relief. "Perry! I'm so glad could you make it!"
Perry took several steps away from Della, the hand that had been resting on her hip so comfortably held out toward the vision of loveliness that could only be Laura Parrish, the mother-of-the-bride. "Laura."
Laura Parrish, slim and coolly beautiful, kissed Perry Mason's cheek. "Perry Mason always keeps his word," she whispered in his ear. Perfectly manicured fingers clutched his shoulders. "And you have not changed a bit. You remember what I used to say – you'll never change, Perry Mason, you'll only weather."
"Laura, you look wonderful. I've obviously been exposed to the elements far more than you have."
Laura Parrish laughed the type of practiced laugh certain women employed in an attempt to enchant men. "You flatter me, Perry." She leaned forward and slid a rose boutonniere into the lapel of his suit coat. "And you sell yourself short. You are still the handsomest man in the room."
Perry shook his head and swore he heard a rattling. How many times had someone else told him he sold himself short about his looks? And where the hell was she? It was time for what could be the most awkward introduction in the history of the world.
On cue, Della appeared behind Laura Parrish, an amused smile on her lips, glinting hazel eyes locked with Perry's over the taller woman's shoulder as she made her way back to Perry's side. Della was considered slightly taller than average and definitely attractive, but she felt short and plain in the presence of a woman she had only spoken with once, but whose existence had battled for twenty-five years.
"And you're Della, of course." Laura Parrish turned to acknowledge Perry Mason's long-time employee. "I've heard so much about you."
Knowing that to be unlikely, Della began to feel less plain in the noticeably chilly air surrounding Laura Parrish. "Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Parrish," she said with sincere graciousness. "This must be quite a day for you."
"Please call me Laura." Laura flicked her eyes quickly back to Perry Mason. "Thank you for coming, Perry. You have no idea how much it means to me."
She leaned forward to kiss his cheek again and Perry grasped her upper arms, holding her close to his chest. Della watched him watch Laura Parrish walk away. Damn that mask of granite he employed so effectively.
She had definitely made the right decision to attend the ceremony.
A pony-tailed photographer jumped toward them, camera at the ready. "How about a picture with the lovely lady?"
And what an interesting photo it would be for the wedding photo album.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Henny Street regarded her sister-in-law with deeply etched concern on her shiny pink face. "How did he know you were here?"
"He says he thought of the most unlikely place I would go, and chartered a plane."
"Oh, he's good."
She smiled wanly. "That's what he does – he plays hunches. I should have just gone to my apartment. He never would have found me there." But she hadn't wanted to be alone, and for all his rigidity and judgement of her life, Carter was her brother and would ultimately protect her, with Henny's prodding.
Henny drew circles on the tablecloth with a short, blunt fingernail. "What are you going to do?" She had no idea things were so bad between her husband's sister and the man she...how had Della put it...worked and played with. And Henny had first-hand knowledge of the games they played thanks to the vision of lady-like Della naked and straddling Perry's hips forever burned into her brain. She'd never known one without the other – and never known two people more in need of the other to be complete and happy.
"I don't know. He says he can forgive me, but..."
Henny could only nod with uninformed empathy as Della's words trailed into silence. She would probably never know exactly had happened between Perry and Della because neither of them spoke directly about their unique relationship, but what she did know was that Della had never been hurt by a man as badly as Perry Mason had hurt her. She placed a comforting hand on Della's. "You know you can stay here as long as you need to. The kids love it when their favorite aunt visits."
"I'm their only aunt," she pointed out.
"Even if you weren't, they would still love you best," Henny assured her. "Della, if you don't want Perry here, Carter will get rid of him."
She nearly laughed aloud at Henny's well-intentioned words. There was no way anyone made Perry Mason do anything he didn't want to do, but she was thankful for her sister-in-law's support. Carter could tell him to leave, even threaten to call the police, but Perry would leave only when he wanted to. And right now he did not want to.
She turned to look at the men, seated on couches positioned perpendicular to a massive stone fireplace in the living room, far enough away so nothing the women said could be heard if they spoke quietly. The men were silent, staring at flickering flames, drinking coffee laced with whiskey. She sighed deeply. "I might have to finally marry him to fix this. If it can be fixed at all."
Henny's pale blue eyes nearly popped out of her head. "What?"
"Shhh! They heard you." She could tell Perry was trying to hear what they said while acting like he wasn't trying to hear what they said.
"But I don't understand, Della. You showed up here this morning utterly devastated by what he'd done and now you're talking about marrying him?"
"He only did what he did because I did what I did." Wow. That was pithy and articulate. Nevertheless, what he did had hurt her to the core. But what she did had hurt him first. And she was right back to that circular explanation. "If he can forgive me, then I need to..."
"Make a grand gesture that's against everything you know about your relationship?" Henny finished the sentence.
She blinked, shocked at Henny's accurate assessment. "Okay," she said shakily, "maybe I need to explain a few things."
Henny sat back against the chair. "About damn time."
She hesitated. How much was she willing to impart to her brother's wife, who would tell her husband everything? "Perry makes promises. And keeps them. If he thinks he didn't keep a promise for a client, he's unbearable until he ultimately finds a way to keep the promise."
"Go on," Henny prodded.
"He's made many promises to me, but there was only one promise I actually asked him to make."
"And he broke that promise." Henny had read enough romance novels to figure out what that promise might have been.
"Yes," she admitted miserably. "I said the most stupid, awful things to him. He had no choice but to break his promise."
"Della," Henny said softly, "he had a choice."
She shook her head almost violently, curls tousled by the wind earlier now even more untamed. "No, he didn't. I didn't m-mean what I said, but he didn't know I didn't mean it...and so when he broke that one important promise he really didn't know he was breaking it...I n-need t-to...look at him! He's miserable." She sniffed and gestured behind her toward the living room, bound and determined not to cry.
"Oh, sweetie you two are pitiful, just pitiful." Seeing her strong, articulate, beautiful sister-in-law devolve into a heap of blathering nonsense excusing her lover's infidelity – she figured it had to be that given Della's raw pain and Perry's contrite silence – upset Henny as much as if one of her children were unhappy. "Do you want advice or just someone to listen?"
She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Both, please."
"Stop blaming yourself, Della. Get mad at him."
"I am mad at him."
"No, you're hurt and blaming yourself for what he did. You need to get good and mad and let him know it". Henny's short, blunt fingers closed around Della's long, slender fingers. "Do you want to end your relationship with him?"
"No," she replied, and the quickness of that answer startled her. "But I always said I would if he ever...did anything like this."
"Do you want to forgive him? Can you forgive him?"
She hesitated before answering Henny's questions, considering what exactly she was feeling. "Yes. It hurts knowing what he did, but it hurts worse to think of being without him."
"Then sweetie, you have to get mad. You have deal with what he did without blaming yourself and give it time to see if you can forgive him."
"Yes," she whispered in complete agony. It had been so much easier when she blamed herself.
Henny glanced up and nodded and Perry was there before Della could push the chair away from the table, lifting her to his broad chest and holding her against his rapidly beating heart.
