Two weeks later, Della stood next to him. Her hands in his, exchanging rings. Their vows were short. Heartfelt. Deep. To love and cherish – what more was there to say?

Perry's eyes rested on hers. There was no vow that could express his love for her. No ring that would change what he felt. But her smile. Exuberant and humbled. The way her dress hugged her curves. Her fluffy hair. That sparkle in her eyes. He felt so blessed.

Della's throat was dry, her voice warm and husky when she said his name, soon to be hers. Her voice was shaking, almost broke. "I take thee, Perry Mason..." The rest of the line was strangely lost but Perry squeezed her hand and helped her through with it.

At the party, Della floated on the dance floor, safely wrapped in her husband's arms. In the company of few close friends, they were alone. No fuss – Perry had gladly agreed with her. Only a small announcement in the local paper. "Famous lawyer weds secretary of thirty plus years." L.A. Times and only that, delivered to Denver to settle a case long filed away.