Chapter 17

It turned out that the actual price of Della's forgiveness was two dresses, a pair of three-inch open-toed black patent mules with a bow across the toe, three sets of silk underwear and stockings, and a double-dip chocolate chip ice cream cone from Dean's on the river.

Perry hovered above Della and picked a helicopter from her hair. "Are you sure no one ever visits this place anymore?"

She stretched her arms over her head in a sensuously languid movement, arching her back as she did so. Her breasts brushed his bare chest and he sucked in his breath sharply. "I'm sure," she purred. "I have it on the best authority that the in vogue place for such clandestine activity is behind the new high school football stadium."

"Maybe we could investigate that location tomorrow," he suggested, dipping his head to move his mouth over her exquisite breasts.

Della sighed with sated delight. "I like this place. It holds wonderful memories."

Perry lifted his head with a frown. "That's hardly a nice thing to say after the performance I just gave."

Della's laughter pealed freely and easily into the warm twilight air. "Exactly," she said.

"That's better." He kissed her deeply for several satisfying seconds. "Are you cold?"

She shook her head. "I'm perfect."

"Yes, you are, but I'm afraid a part of my anatomy is flagrantly exposed and becoming chilled. And I think there is a deer over there by the tree line giving us the stink-eye."

Della mewled a slight protest as he rolled away from her and sat up. He ran his hands through his hair and smiled down at her glorious body bathed in the clear blue light between sunset and dusk. "Bless whoever it was who left a blanket in the trunk of that beastly car."

She reached over and pulled a corner of the blanket up around his hips. "Better?"

"Better. I can't believe I'm saying this, because it must still be eighty degrees, but I'm shivering."

"The dew is settling," Della told him. "Feel the grass. The high humidity causes a heavy dew when the air cools."

Perry pushed his feet through the leg holes of his boxers, raised himself to his knees and pulled them up over his hips. "Is it always so hot here this time of year?"

"It's not the heat, darling, it's the humidity."

"Well, I'm here to tell you that I don't like the humidity." He handed her the scraps of lace he had so reverently removed earlier and watched while she re-hooked and repositioned everything. "You are beautiful," he said in awe.

She rose to her knees and leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her forehead against his. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"I'm sorry I made you come here. I promise you'll never have to come back again. We'll hire managers for everything and be silent partners from L.A."

"I think I might have to come back at least one more time. Propriety dictates."

Perry shook his head. "I already alluded to your father that you wouldn't be at his funeral."

She pulled back quickly and sought his eyes. "You didn't."

"I did."

She sat back down on her haunches. "Maybe you are my knight in shining armor," she said softly.

"I certainly hope so," he replied fervently. He tossed her skirt and blouse at her. "We should get back to the house. Everyone was a bit on edge when I left."

"You didn't hit anyone, did you?"

"No."

"Perry…"

"No, I did not hit anyone. I may have roughed up your father and Carter a bit, but I didn't technically hit either of them."

She sighed dramatically. "Our bags have probably been tossed to the curb. There is an auto court in the next town we might be able to still get into if we hurry."

"I think we'll be welcomed with open arms," he told her enigmatically. "Remember, it's your house now."

She finished buttoning her blouse with a reflective look on her face and stood to shake out her skirt, making him pause in his efforts to button his own shirt. "Carter won't welcome us."

"Carter is an idiot."

"He thinks he's been terribly wronged."

Perry stood, picked up the blanket and gave it a good shaking. "Are you afraid of your brother? I really think you could take him."

She laughed and shook her head. "I'm not afraid of him. I simply don't want him to talk to me ever again."

"You just may get your wish. Henny and your father have most likely convinced him that keeping quiet would be in his best interest."

"Henny? What does she have to do with anything?"

"Henny has a lot to do with everything." He folded the blanket and placed it back in the cavernous trunk of the Galaxie. "Carter is in love with her. And it's possible your father may be carrying a torch for her as well."

Della screwed up her face in disgust. "You didn't have to tell me that. I already guessed about Carter when Henny fainted. When did you become so astute in reading the signs of a possible romance?"

"A man just knows these things," he deadpanned.

The entire house was dark save for the front hallway and the parlor when Perry finally pulled the Galaxie into the driveway and urged the balky car up the incline. He held the driver's door open and Della slid to the ground next to him, affectionately tucking her hand into the crook of his arm as they strolled leisurely toward the stately porch.

"Would you like to sit outside for a while?" Perry asked, his foot resting on the bottom step. "Cocktails on the veranda?"

Della shook her head. "Cocktails on the veranda didn't go so well earlier. A shower and a fan blasting directly on me is all I want right now."

"At the risk of offending your father, I think you need to be tucked in tonight. I'm quite adept at that particular activity."

"I recall that you are," she agreed readily. "Do you mind if I run right upstairs? I don't think I can face that rat bastard brother of mine if he's still awake."

"Hey," he protested, "I kiss that mouth."

They were at the door now. She slid her arms around his torso and rested her head on his chest. "You can make me angrier than any person on earth," she whispered, "but the depth of that anger isn't even close to how deeply happy you make me."

Perry held her close. "We still have a lot to face in the few days. I guarantee I'll make you angry again."

She pulled out of his embrace and stepped back. "Then just buy me another ice cream cone," she sassed.

She yanked open the door, peered inside the house to confirm the coast was clear, and sprinted through the hallway and up the stairs. He was still chuckling as he entered the house and closed the door. "She's fine," he said to Jameson Street, who emerged from the parlor, "considering what she's going through."

"That's good," Della's father replied. "I'm sorry my son took out his frustration on her."

"Is frustration what made you say what you said about her too? Neither one of you knows the least little thing about her and yet you judge her and find fault in her and demean her. How someone as decent as Della ever sprang from this dysfunctional environment is beyond me."

Perry tried to brush past Jameson Street but the older man grabbed his arm. "My mother and Mae are responsible for who she is," he said quietly. "Della may remember her childhood differently than I do, but I want you to know that while my mother was strict and blunt, she adored that girl and protected her from what could have harmed her."

"I don't believe you, Mr. Street," Perry said with steely coldness. "An adoring grandmother wouldn't have caused such pain. Della was desperately hurt by her childhood – so hurt she can't talk about it. She's a very intuitive woman. I rely on her instincts and trust her impressions of people and situations every day in my practice. She couldn't have misjudged her childhood as badly as you claim."

"I have proof if the fact my mother disinherited me and my son in favor of Della isn't enough to convince you. You're an attorney. Your clients live and die by proof, don't they? I'll get more proof for you."

Perry passed his hand over his face wearily. "You do that, Mr. Street. But not tonight. I'm going to put an impressive dent in your bourbon supply and then I'm going to take a shower. And then," he said pointedly, "I'm going to walk into your daughter's bedroom big as life and not leave until she's sleeping peacefully – if I leave at all."

Jameson Street swallowed hard. "Under normal circumstances I would run someone like you out of my house," he began, and paused as the absurdity of what he said registered and hid behind what he had always shielded himself with. "My mother wouldn't have stood for your behavior either."

"Well, then I'd say it's fortunate she's not here to witness what I intend to do tonight," he said coldly.

The decanter of bourbon was still on the dining room sideboard and he picked it up gratefully. The ice bucket contained partially melted cubes, but he was too exhausted and emotionally drawn to care. He splashed a healthy amount of the fine whiskey into a large squatty glass over the soft ice and drank heartily before replenishing the pour. He replaced the glass stopper and leaned against the sideboard. A fleeting thought passed through his mind that not a single piece of furniture in this God-forsaken house was constructed of anything but ornately carved mahogany. No wonder Della's decorating proclivities tended toward lighter, simpler furnishings.

"Carter really isn't as bad as you think, Mr. Mason."

Perry spun around and blinked. Henrietta Vander Velde was seated in the dark at the foot of the long table in Katherine Street's former place as hostess.

"He's had a terrible shock," Henny continued, her pretty voice soft, on the verge of tears. "He's worked very hard for years and for his grandmother to…it was an unexpected blow."

Perry sat down heavily at the head of the table and regarded her in the dim light across the expanse of highly polished wood. "I daresay it was a shock to everyone," he ventured carefully. "And I daresay Della received several terrible shocks today that far outweigh Carter's measly little shock."

Unbecoming red blotches appeared on Henny's undefined cheeks. "What will you advise Della to do with her grandmother's estate?" She sniffed audibly and dabbed daintily at the corner of one eye with a hanky.

"I can hardly discuss that with you, Miss Vander Velde."

Henny unfolded and re-folded the hanky with shaking fingers. "I guess I knew you would say that. Carter…he isn't a very spontaneous person, plus he's confused and upset at the moment. I know he'll eventually regret what he said to Della, but right now..."

Perry drained his drink and stood. He leaned his hands on the edge of the table and smiled kindly at Miss Henrietta Vander Velde. "How old are you, Henny?"

She wiped at her eyes again before answering. "That's hardly a proper question for a man to ask a woman, Mr. Mason," she said with a shaky little laugh. "I'm thirty-four."

"Did Carter say he'd marry you once the house or the mill was his?"

To her credit Henny managed to compose herself enough to give a firm answer. "Yes. We've been planning for nearly a year."

Perry lowered his eyes to the table top, then raised them to stare soberly at Henny Vander Velde. "You've been planning for a year what you would do when his grandmother died?"

Henny gasped at the import of his words. "No!" she cried. "That didn't come out right. You see, I took over running the house when it became too much for Grandmother Katherine because of her hip, and we spent a lot of time together talking. She told me that she would turn the house over to the person who deserved it; to the person she admired most in the family. We all thought Grandmother Katherine was going to give the house to Carter and split the business between Jameson and Carter. No one factored Della into the equation."

"If I were you, Henny, I'd choose my words more carefully." He stood straight and bowed slightly at the waist. "I would like to wish you and Carter every happiness."

"Thank you, Mr. Mason, but I'm afraid I can't accept your wishes. Carter told me this afternoon that we won't be getting married any time soon." Tears ran unchecked down her flat cheeks and dripped onto her white cotton blouse.

"Then may I make the observation that Carter is a bigger idiot than I originally thought." He bowed again and exited the dining room as Henny wept quietly in the dark.

The cool water of the shower invigorated him and chased away much of the fatigue that had assailed him instantly upon re-entering the house. He thought back to when Della had lain beneath him on a blanket in the middle of a meadow, her eyes dark with desire, her gasps and sighs of pleasure the most beautiful music he had ever heard, and he smiled. She had wanted their passion to 'just happen', and it certainly had. And he couldn't have been more pleased. He also couldn't wait to be out of this town and at the lake house, where anything could 'just happen' at any time and usually did. Now more than ever they needed time alone, if not to talk about the stunning revelations of the past few days, than to simply be free from their everyday life as well as the new path their life together had been forced onto.

He toweled himself dry and stepped into clean boxers The house was not air-conditioned and despite fans in the bedrooms, sleeping was not exactly comfortable during the unusual early summer heat wave. He suffered no embarrassment in walking from the bathroom to Della's room clad in only his drawers and so had left his robe in the room he had slept in the past two nights. It was late and everyone in the house was safely behind closed doors. Except for poor Henny, who for all he knew was still downstairs in the dark nursing her private misery, gathering strength to make the lonely drive home. He switched out the light and opened the door. And ran smack into Eve Wyman.

She gave an elaborately surprised feminine cry and pressed herself close to him, her fully made-up face tilted upward, lips parted. "Why Perry," she whispered sotto voce, "I didn't know anyone was in there. I'm still half-asleep."

Perry grasped her shoulders and set her away from him firmly. "Excuse me, Mrs. Wyman. I was a bit distracted myself."

"Perry, I've told you and told you to call me Eve," she scolded him with a smile. "I'm beginning to think you don't like me." Her smile became a tiny pout. "Don't you like me?"

"Whether or not I like you has no bearing on what I call you."

She cocked her head to the right and regarded him coyly, angling her body for the best view of her shamelessly displayed cleavage. "Does it make you uncomfortable that I'm Della's mother? It shouldn't, since she and I have never really met."

"I barely give that fact a passing thought, Mrs. Wyman. As far as I'm concerned, after what you did when Della was a baby and especially after what you did tonight, Della doesn't have a mother."

An irritated look swept across Eve Wyman's face before she regained her pout. "You've been talking with Jameson."

"It's neither here nor there who I've talked to."

"Still mysterious and deep, aren't you, Perry?"

"On the contrary, I believe I've made myself very clear. If you'll excuse me, Mrs. Wyman, I have a promise to keep."

Eve Wyman didn't budge. She placed her hands flat on his bare chest and again raised her face toward his, fluttering preternaturally long lashes. "You aren't entertaining the thought of joining Della in her room, are you? I don't think I like that idea. And I know her father wouldn't be at all pleased."

"I've already discussed my plans with her father."

"Why are we standing in the bathroom doorway when my bedroom is just steps away?" Eve cooed, tacitly ignoring Perry's words. "We would be so much more comfortable in there. I have two fans, so my room is cooler than any other bedroom. We could have a very nice conversation and get to know one another better."

Perry placed his hands over hers and again removed them from his torso. "You are barking up the wrong tree, Mrs. Wyman. Della inherited her grandmother's estate, not I."

"While I admire your loyalty to Della, given the circumstances I find it difficult to believe a man like you can be completely satisfied with her. She's certainly lovely and it must be nice to have a girl so much younger than you at your beck and call, but she…"

"Mrs. Wyman," Perry interrupted in a hard voice, "I'll have you know that I am eminently satisfied and have no inclination to sample lesser offerings at this or any other time." He pushed past Della's stunned, furious mother and crossed the hall purposefully to Della's bedroom. Without knocking, he opened the door and stepped inside, carefully closing and locking the door behind him.

"What took you so long?" Della's low sleepy voice floated to him from across the room.

Perry tip-toed to the edge of her bed and stood looking down at her lying on her side, propped up on several pillows. "I had to clear some garbage from the hallway," he said.

She pulled back the sheet and smiled up at him. "Come to bed, darling," she invited softly.

He lowered himself slowly to the mattress of Della's childhood bed and took her in his arms, hoping she couldn't tell how they shook. Her face was freshly scrubbed and he could almost taste her pale freckles as his lips roamed over cool, smooth skin.

"What's the matter, Perry? You're trembling. Don't tell me you took a cold shower." She pressed her soft body closer to his and wrapped her slender arms around him, shielding him from the breeze generated by the blade fan on the bedside table next to her.

He relaxed into her embrace, surrounded by her familiar scent, enveloped by the depth of her feelings for him. "It took a long time to get here tonight," he whispered against her lips.