Chapter 19

A/N: The plan was to post this fluffy final chapter last Friday, but I ran out of time before heading up north to stand over the campfire with an umbrella so we wouldn't starve. Luckily I took an extra day off from work to dry out under that big, shiny yellow thing we haven't seen in several days.

Thank you for being patient with this story and for commenting. It means so much to know what you love to do is appreciated.

~ OED

Dinner was a disaster.

He had never liked Janet Mills Brent Simmons Kenyon, or any of her husbands. Her much older first husband had been exceptionally wealthy, prone to annoying feminine exclamations of "Fabulous!", and far too generous in regard to their divorce settlement when she predictably separated from him. The second husband, six years his wife's junior, had lasted longer than expected, surprisingly exiting the marriage with only a fraction of the assets husband number one handed over, as well as the balance of his estate when Alton Brent passed away without an heir.

Following her second divorce, Janet used quite a bit of Alton Brent's money to 'rejuvenate' herself, returning from an extensive trip abroad with a new face, a new body, and a new husband.

Husband number three John Kenyon was so obviously a feckless fortune hunter that Janet referred to him 'affectionately' as F. Hunter. According to gossip, John was nineteen years younger than his wife, but only Janet's closest friend, Della Street, knew the gap was actually twenty-three years.

John Kenyon was similar to Janet's previous husbands in that he could carry on lively conversations with women but struggled to keep his head above water when in the company of men. So while both women and the younger man seemingly had a grand time, he was relegated to glorified bartender/waiter, and by the time she closed the door on their visitors, he was more than ready for them to be gone.

"Ah, silence," he hailed.

She turned and leaned against the door. "It wasn't that bad."

"I don't know what dinner party you attended, but the one I attended was pure torture."

She patted his face sympathetically as she walked by him, picking up empty brandy snifters from the glass cocktail table and heading toward the kitchen, where she set them by the sink alongside dessert dishes dribbled with congealing chocolate sauce. "I thought he was delightful."

"Not fabulous?"

She had to smile. For years she had kept Janet as far away from him as possible, but tonight had been virtually unavoidable. "I couldn't very well cancel when you decided at the last minute not to meet your gang of miscreants for dinner."

"I forgot about Janet and young Master Kenyon," he admitted ruefully. "I thought we would be alone. It's been so hectic lately and I wanted to have dinner with you. Just you."

"That would have been nice." She walked into his arms and snuggled against his broad chest. "We're alone now."

"I'm old and forgot why I wanted to be alone with you." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. "Don't ever do what Janet did."

She snickered. "What – dump you for a gigolo twenty years younger than me?" Their age difference had always concerned him more than it concerned her.

"Twenty," he harrumphed. "Twenty-five is more like it. No, I mean, don't ever do anything like that to your face." Her leaving him for someone closer to her age was a long-standing fear, even though physically he could delight her every bit as much as he had thirty years ago. Maybe not as often, but with as much verve as ever.

She had to admit Janet's appearance left her speechless for an almost awkward amount of time when she opened the door. A successful fortune hunter herself, Janet's bank account was enough to attract younger men. There was no need to mutilate herself. "I won't if you won't," she promised.

"I've never seen eyebrows up so high on a forehead before. I like your eyebrows exactly where they are."

"Unfortunately, dear, gravity has no mercy for women my age."

He tilted her head up and lovingly inspected every inch of her face. She was beautiful and would always be beautiful, and he had been blessed to witness the exquisite blossoming from youth to mature woman. "Gravity hasn't stepped anywhere near you, kiddo."

She sighed and nestled against him once more. "I might be able to jog your memory about why you wanted to be alone tonight."

He drew in a sharp breath as her hands roamed downward. "I believe you have."

She chuckled softly, took his hand, and led him from the kitchen.

"What about the dishes?" He asked, obediently following her through the living room and down the hallway toward their spacious bedroom.

"The dishes will be there in the morning for Trudy."

"No, you'll sneak out of bed in the middle of the night and straighten up before Trudy gets here."

They were in the master bedroom now, and she kicked off signature three-inch pumps before turning into his embrace, a perfect fit beneath his chin. "I've turned over a new leaf. There are far more important things to worry about than dishes in the sink."

He walked her backward toward the bed while she unknotted his tie, smiling down at her as she lowered herself to the mattress, using the ends of the tie to pull him down with her. "You're very forward tonight, Miss Street."

She gasped when his mouth gently touched the side of her neck, one of her most sensitive areas. "Are you complaining?"

He hovered over her, forever stunned by everything she was and he wasn't. "Not at all," he said softly, tears evident in passion-darkened eyes. "I've just never understood why –"

"Hush," she whispered, placing an elegant finger against his lips. "You don't have to understand, because I do."


Kaitlynn Parrish and Gary Hawkes were married only a few days after her acquittal for the murder of Lon Hawkes. She wore a borrowed tea-length white faille princess dress with contrasting vertical black velvet cording ending in bows and small clusters of beads, and black beaded pumps to match. The mother of the bride was mortified, but the bride herself never looked more radiant. It was the dress that brought instant tears when she tried it on, and made her groom shamelessly shed tears as well.

The rescheduled wedding was smaller than originally planned, attended mostly by family and close friends. Security, vetted by Ken Malansky and approved by Perry Mason, kept Kaitlynn's and Gary's adoring fans far away from the Parrish home. No wedding crashers were found hiding in closets this time; although Suzy Richards was present as an invited guest and honorary bridesmaid.

Following the ceremony there were several tables of appetizers, a champagne fountain, and cake for guest to forage. The newlyweds never sat down as they personally thanked every guest for attending the simple, heartfelt wedding they had wanted since becoming engaged.

After Kaitlynn and Gary ran upstairs to change into traveling clothes, guests straggled out of the Parrish mansion to gather around the sleek black limousine that would take the newlyweds to the airfield where a private jet, also arranged by Perry Mason, awaited them.

Perry, injured arm still in a sling, cupped Della's elbow with his good hand. "Was it my imagination, or do I recognize Kaitlynn's dress?"

Della, resplendent in a white suit with scalloped, embroidered lapels that Kaitlynn had insisted she wear, smiled. "You have a good memory. I wore it in –"

"Nineteen-sixty," he interrupted.

She pressed herself against his side as his arm circled her waist. "You do have a good memory."

"So the shopping trip with Kaitlynn took place in your closet." This woman, to his dying day, would never cease to surprise him.

She nodded. "I have all those dresses..." her words trailed off.

He squeezed her tighter. "I know," he said gently. "You amaze me, Della Street."

"The dress is something borrowed, the shoes are new, she found the veil at an antique shop, and she'd kill me for telling you that her underwear is blue."

He chuckled delightedly. "I won't bring it up. By the way, not that I question your judgment or fashion sense, but isn't wearing white to a wedding considered gauche?" She practically glowed in the white suit.

"I'll have you know the bride herself insisted I wear the suit since it was my anniversary outfit this year, and we didn't have the opportunity to properly celebrate if you recall."

"You two are thick as thieves, aren't you?"

Della briefly laid her head on his shoulder. "She's a wonderful young lady."

"We'll have her and Gary over for dinner when they get back from the honeymoon."

"Pork roast on the grill, parsley potatoes, and creamed cucumbers," Della listed, and then laughed. "Kaitlynn and I already set a date. She and Gary are bringing the wine."

Lord, he loved her.

There was a slight commotion as the newly wedded couple appeared in the grand double doorway, Kaitlynn in a pastel aqua suit and Gary in light grey. They rushed to Perry and Della, giving each more hugs and kisses, Kaitlynn's freshly applied lipstick leaving a visible mark on Perry's cheek. Ken Malansky separated himself from Suzy Richards and her parents to join the hug-fest.

Gary jabbed his elbow into the investigator's ribs. "Were we a good team, or what?"

Ken shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "We had some moments."

"Moments!" Gary exclaimed, "I think we got a series here. I'll call you, Malansky." He grabbed Kaitlynn's hand and pulled her down the stairs toward where her parents awaited next to the limo.

Ken turned to Perry Mason, who was looking at Della with wonder. Ken sincerely hoped he could someday find a woman to look at that way. "We were a pretty good team, too."

Della winked at him. "You bet we were."

Ken took one step down the stairs, paused. "Well, I'm on my way."

"Enjoy your fishing trip!" Della sang.

Perry tore his eyes from Della. "Ken...we are a pretty good team."

Ken, completely flummoxed, merely stared at the best criminal attorney in the world, his mentor, his father-figure, his friend.

Perry let go of Della and waved Ken away. "Bring back plenty of fish for a fish fry."

Ken grinned and ran down the steps, and disappeared into the crowd surrounding the limo where Kaitlynn was enfolded in her father's arms.

"Kaitlynn's father loves her very much," Della observed with a catch in her voice.

"Yes," Perry agreed, looking down at her with all the love in his heart, wishing he had two arms to embrace her. "Yes, he does."

She reached up to wipe Kaitlynn's lipstick from his cheek, and his large hand covered hers, the pinky rings they each wore on full display to anyone who might be watching.