Part 2.2 – Thank You

Perry could do nothing but laugh with delight as Della ran excitedly from room to room, her exclamations increasingly rapturous, her excited chatter filling the empty house with welcome sound. Every so often she would throw herself at him for a ferocious hug, and then dance away quickly as treasured memories from the Jersey shore were transplanted to this house in California.

In addition to the front room, the lower level of the house consisted of an enclosed sun porch, a dining room, a small den beyond the dining room, and a large open country kitchen accessible from both rooms. Della pulled him through the house, the layout familiar to her, yet surprised at each turn that what she expected to see was actually there. Her giddiest reaction was at the revelation of both a hall closet and a small bathroom hidden behind thick oak doors in the wide hallway that split the house.

Perry loved seeing her like this, what she must have been like as a child, her adult elegance and grace taken over by a bouncy exuberance never before glimpsed. She was usually more reserved in her joy, something he had always chalked up to the geographical sensibility of her upbringing, the calm practicality he admired so much in her. This Della, this giggly, irrepressible youngster before him was irresistible. Just watching her reaction as each detail of the house was revealed to her filled him with so much love and happiness he couldn't stop grinning.

The lower floor thoroughly explored, she took his hand and ran up the stairs. Really and truly ran, taking the stairs two at a time as she must have done all those years ago in another house on the opposite side of the country on the shores of a different ocean. At the top of the stairs she halted in awe as yet another memory surfaced. A large square hallway divided two front bedrooms and a bathroom, as well and two rear bedrooms and another bathroom, exactly like the Martin house. She turned to him and he saw happy tears pooling in the beautiful eyes he adored.

"It's exactly the same," she whispered. She shook her head as if to clear a fog, but when she again took in the sight before her it remained the same.

He kissed her hand. "You gave a very vivid recounting of the house. When I saw how much the exterior resembled your description, I was hopeful the interior would be as similar."

"Similar? Darling, it's the same. It's as if someone picked up the Martin's house and moved it to California. Even the color of the walls is the same. I can't believe you found such a place to rent."

He nodded toward the bedroom to the right, suppressing the grin that once again threatened to expose the rest of the surprise. "Let's go explore your favorite porch."

She moved toward the large bedroom that in the Martin house had been considered the 'master', her step light and happy. But at the doorway she abruptly halted, mouth agape. The room was large, the walls covered with pale green grass cloth wallpaper, the gleaming hardwood floor covered by a large rag rug in vibrant shades of green and peach. There was only one piece of furniture in the room: a no-nonsense cherry four poster bed with a tester canopy of cream-colored fabric gathered in a sunburst effect. Della felt Perry's hands at her waist, his breath warm on her neck as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Do you like the bed? I know it's not exactly like the canopy bed you had as a little girl, but I thought this one suited my size and your decorating taste better. We can scour the local shops for tables and dressers…" his words were cut off as her knees suddenly buckled and he had to quickly catch her before she collapsed on the floor. He lifted her easily in his arms and placed her on the bed, his arms steadying her, holding her trembling body upright. The bed was high off the ground and her feet dangled several inches from the floor as her astounded eyes scanned the room.

"You…you didn't rent this house," she finally said, her tone almost accusatory. "You bought this house."

He cupped her cheek with a gentleness reserved only for her. "I bought this house," he admitted quietly. "It's yours, my beautiful girl. I saw it and knew I had to buy it for you – for us. You make me happy every second of my life and I want you to be happy. I love you, Della."

Her face was flushed, her eyes brilliant as she captured his hand and held it against her heart. He felt her struggle to breathe as she processed what he'd said. Her head dropped to his chest. "I love you, Perry. I can't find words to tell you how much I love you. You didn't have to buy a house to make me happy. I can't believe you did this for me." She laughed because she didn't know what else to do.

He smiled into her hair. "I did this for us, darling. Making you happy makes me happy. I don't ever want you to be homesick again." He kissed the curls at her forehead. "A simple 'I love you' tells me everything I need to know, Della. It always has and always will."

All he had ever needed to do was look at her and she was his forever, and being held in his arms made her feel safe and loved and…treasured. That was a good word. "I treasure you, Mr. Mason. And I treasure every moment we're able to spend together."

It was his turn to be without words. He hugged her tighter.

"It's warm in here," she declared.

He nodded. "I had the decorator I've been working with turn on the furnace yesterday. Wait until you meet him, sweetheart. He's something else. And guess what? He's originally from New Jersey!"

Her hands had found their way beneath his sweater and were currently making lazy circles on his back. "Maybe we can have him over for dinner one night," she said casually.

"Nothing doing, baby. You are seeing no one but me for an entire week. We'll have him over some other weekend. And get this – his name is Martin. It's his first name, but the coincidences just keep – "

She kissed him. "You talk too much sometimes, darling. And you are definitely wearing too many clothes for how warm it is in here."

His smile was indulgently amused. The ecstatic girlishness was gone, replaced by the quietly assured womanliness he loved with all that he was. He returned her kiss, gently but firmly. "I have an idea it's going to get a lot warmer very quickly."

Della unbuttoned his cashmere cardigan with desire-shaken fingers while Perry continued the firm pressure on her mouth. Never breaking contact, he tangled his arms with hers and unbuttoned her blouse. He laughed softly as she became frustrated when presented with even more buttons on his shirt beneath the sweater and took over the chore of unbuttoning while she reached for his belt buckle.

And then they were lying atop the green and cream patchwork quilt, skin to skin, mouth to mouth, whispering in a language only they shared. He knew exactly where to touch her, where she was the most vulnerable to his kisses, and slowly, so slowly, he moved his mouth over her already heated body, feeling her begin to tremble beneath him. The whispers became gasps and moans, incoherent sounds but completely understood. The kisses that had begun so sweetly, so slowly, now became harder and hungrier. Everything around them was spinning, their desire pulsing toward the ultimate crescendo of need and desire and pleasure until they collapsed together, sated and spent, holding one another close, each tasting the salt of tears on the other's cheeks.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was almost an hour before they ventured out onto the upper porch off the master bedroom, and Della's youthful exuberance returned to delight him once more. He would never forget this day, and would carry her thrilled reaction to the house with him as long as he lived. Nothing in the world compared to the feeling he got from seeing her truly happy.

Della leaned back against Perry as they stood at the porch railing, his long arms holding her securely. It reminded her of the first time they met, when they stood in the darkness at a terrace railing. She had known then the chance encounter had shifted her perspective, but she didn't know how circumstances would align to reintroduce her to the man who after a year still haunted her dreams as a vague outline bathed in a dim yellow glow.

She had presented Mr. Larkin with a perfect document in record time, a document he had stressed was extremely important and time-sensitive, but didn't even glance at when she placed it on his desk with barely contained pride. No, he had instead raked his pale grey eyes up and down her slender height, lasciviously taking in the classic brown tweed pencil skirt and soft beige sweater she wore and told her how nice she looked, that he was proud he had snagged the prettiest girl in the steno pool as his secretary. When he would have touched her, she shied away, making an excuse that she had to finish the correspondence since she had dropped everything to complete the very important contract for him. She fairly ran from his private office to her desk on the other side of the door. Her very public desk enclosed by a short, gated railing that exposed her to almost every other person in the firm.

As she dejectedly sat herself down and ratcheted paper into her typewriter, her thoughts turned dour. She had been so proud and happy to be promoted from the steno pool to be Mr. Larkin's personal secretary. He was young and dynamic, and gossip around the firm was that he was being groomed to someday take over the reins of the entire outfit. The position meant a great deal of prestige, more money, and increased responsibility, everything she had been dreaming of since moving to California. Only all of that came with thinly veiled assaults on her womanhood, lecherous comments about her shapeliness, about her pretty face and the intoxicating perfume she wore. She stopped wearing perfume, exchanged her favorite three-inch pumps for flats, and toned down her make-up. Mr. Larkin hardly noticed. As a matter of fact, he seemed to like her natural look better, and the comments grew in boldness. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as her anger and frustration intensified, the clacking of the keys a welcome diversion.

"Della. Della. Della!"

She looked up and blinked. Standing in front of her was the steno pool supervisor, Marge Bennett. The older woman smiled kindly at the younger woman and spoke more softly.

"My goodness, girl, you certainly can concentrate on your work."

She looked at her former boss and blushed, embarrassed to be caught so entrenched in her disturbing thoughts. "I'm sorry, Miss Bennett. I guess I was in my own little world."

"That's perfectly all right, my dear, I understand. I always told everyone you were the best typist I'd ever seen. It's probably that concentration that makes you so good at it. It's probably why you're so good at everything you do. That's why I think it's time for you to go."

"Time for me to go? Am I being fired?" She was shocked. Had Mr. Larkin complained about her? Had her standoffishness and deflection of his advances caused him to rethink his decision to hire her as his secretary? "I don't understand. I don't want to leave. I need this job, Miss Bennett. Surely if Mr. Larkin isn't pleased with my performance I can go back to –"

Marge Bennett held up her hand. "Della, stop! You have it all wrong, dear. I'm not here to fire you – only Mr. Larkin can do that now. I'm here because I can see that despite your protests, you aren't happy being that man's secretary, and I have an opportunity I think you should look into."

She sat back against her chair in relief. "Thank goodness. I thought Mr. Larkin had…" she didn't finish her sentence. She wouldn't tell Miss Bennett how unhappy she was with Mr. Larkin's behavior. She could handle it, could handle him, but would he accept how she handled it?

"Carol Simmons called today. She used to work in the steno pool, but now she works for an attorney – a criminal trial lawyer. His office is in the Brent Building over on 4th and Grand, right off of Broadway. Anyway, Carol called a little while ago because she's getting married in a few weeks and her husband doesn't want her working once they're married. Her boss is in dire need of a secretary, but no applicant so far has been satisfactory. Carol is desperate and was hoping I could recommend someone and I immediately thought of you. You aren't meant to work for a man like Mr. Larkin. He's uninteresting and common. You need a challenge. So I hope you don't mind, but I scheduled an interview for you at ten o'clock tomorrow morning. I also scheduled Arlene to cover for you." She paused to take a deep breath. "Della, I think you might be just what this lawyer is looking for from Carol's description of the job. He's beginning to really make a name for himself in the legal community. Carol says he's tough, but fair, and he doesn't ask anyone to do something he himself wouldn't be willing to do. He has high standards for himself and for his secretary, and conducts himself with dignity."

She looked at Miss Bennett with just a bit of skepticism. "I don't have any experience being a legal secretary," she pointed out. "Why would an attorney on the rise even consider taking on a secretary with no experience in his field?"

Miss Bennett smiled. "Carol says he's very unusual in his appraisal of people. He's trained himself to arrive at accurate first impressions and he's not averse to hiring someone with no experience because he doesn't mind training the right person for the job. Carol had very little experience in the legal field but he took a chance on her because he liked her and saw in her someone he could work with. I think you should take a chance, Della. You have nothing to lose. This job could be the adventure you've been looking for, the challenge I know you want."

She sighed. She was pleased Miss Bennett thought enough of her to recommend her for such an opportunity, but she was still a bit unsure. "All right, I'll go. But what if Mr. Larkin finds out I'm interviewing for another position?"

"Just leave the explaining to me. I'll take care of everything. You just go to that interview, be yourself, and get that job." Miss Bennett leaned down and patted her hand reassuringly. "Then come back and tell me all about it." She turned to leave.

"Miss Bennett! What's his name…this lawyer I have the interview with?"

Miss Bennett squinted at a piece of paper in her hand. "Mason," she replied. "Perry Mason."

"Hellooo, where are you, darling?"

Della snapped back to the present. She smiled. "I was at my desk talking with Marge Bennett."

Perry was confused. "At your desk talking to whom?"

"Marge Bennett. You remember her - she set up my interview with you."

"Ah yes, I certainly do remember her. Our unintentional matchmaker."

Della drew his arms more snugly around her. "I was shocked she thought of me when Carol Simmons called for a recommendation."

Perry rested his chin on her shoulder, head pressed close to hers. "No one I interviewed was adequate," he remembered. "Carol was afraid I wouldn't let her get married if I didn't have a new secretary."

"So I was merely adequate, Counselor?"

"Oh no. You, Miss Street, were much more than adequate. On paper you were woefully inexperienced, but in person you were everything, and more, I could have hoped for."

She knew what the 'and more' meant. She had been searching for him as well. "If we hadn't met before, would you still have hired me?"

"In a heartbeat," he answered in a heartbeat.

She sighed contentedly. The view from the upper porch was spectacular and she could barely believe the house was hers. Before any more furniture was brought into the house, they had to put chairs – no, a chaise – on it so they could sit together and marvel at the world. She shivered uncontrollably.

"What's the matter, darling?"

She continued to shiver. "I was just thinking about all the lovely days and nights we'll share on this porch and it makes me happy."

Perry hugged her, rocked her from side to side. "It makes me happy, too, my love," he whispered. Then he straightened and turned her in his arms. "I just remembered we left our luggage and supplies in the car. Maybe we should bring everything in and put it away. Then I'll start dinner. How does steak, sautéed mushrooms, and fried potatoes sound to you?"

"Add a bottle of wine to the menu and I think I could manage to choke it down."

He closed the French door to the porch behind them. "Aren't you hungry? We don't have to have a big meal tonight."

She wasn't very hungry, but it was still early. By the time they unpacked everything and dinner was actually cooked she would most likely be ravenous. "I have a lump in my throat," she admitted. "And my heart is so full of love for you my chest is tight. I'm trying very hard not to cry constantly I'm so happy."

Perry gently wrapped his arms around her and kissed her for a long, long time.