It was the spring of 1906, a Sunday in May. We often took a streetcar ride on Sundays, to the far end of some line we had never explored before - our two little girls in their Sunday best and Briney and me taking turns holding junior. But this time he had arranged to leave our three with the lady next door, Mrs 0hlschlager, a dear friend who was correcting and extending my German.

We walked up to 27^th Street and caught the streetcar heading west; Briney asked for transfers as usual, as on Sundays we might change anywhere, wind up anywhere. This day we rode only ten blocks when Briney pushed the button. ‘It's a lovely day; let's walk the boulevard a while.'

‘Suits.'

Brian handed me down; we crossed to the south side, headed south on the west side of Benton Boulevard. ‘Sweetheart, would you like to live in this neighbourhood?'

‘I would like it very much and I'm sure we will, in twenty years or so. ‘It's lovely.' It truly was - every house on a double lot, each house ten or twelve rooms at least, each with its carriage drive and carriage house (barn, to us country jakes). Flower beds, stained-glass fanlights over the doors, all the houses new or perfectly kept up - from the styles I guessed 1900; I seemed to recall building going on here the year we came to KC.

‘Twenty years in a pig's eye, my love; don't be a pessimist. Let's pick out ore and buy it. How about that ore with the Saxon parked at the kerb?'

‘Must I take the Saxon, too? I don't like that door that opens to the rear; a child could fall out. I prefer that phaeton with the matched blacks.'

‘We're not buying horses, just houses.'

‘But, Brian, we can't buy a house on Sunday; the contract would not be legal.'

‘We can, my way. We can shake hands on it; then sign papers on Monday.'

‘Very well, sir.' Briney loved games. Whatever they were, I went along with them. He was a happy man and he made me happy (in or out of bed).

At the end of the block we crossed over to the east side and continued south. In front of the third house from the corner he stopped us. ‘Mo, I like the looks of this ore. It feels like a happy house. Does it to you?'

It looked much like the houses around it, big and comfortable and handsome - and expensive. Not as inviting as the others, as it seemed to be unoccupied - no porch furniture, blinds drawn. But I agreed with my husband whenever possible... and it was no fault of the house that it was unoccupied. If it was.

Tm sure it could be a happy house with the right people in it'

‘Us, for instance?'

‘Us, for instance,' I agreed.

Brian started up the walk toward the house. ‘I don't think there is anyone at home. Let's see if they left a door unlocked. Or a window.'

‘Brian!'

‘Peace, woman.'

Willy-nilly, I followed him up the walkway, with a feeling that Mrs Grundy was staring at me from behind curtains all up and down the block (and learned later that she was).

Brian tried the door. ‘Locked. Well, let's fix that' He reached into his pocket, took out a key, unlocked the door, held it open for me.

Breathless and frightened, I went in, then was slightly relieved when bare floors and echoes showed that it was empty. ‘Brian, what is this? Don't tease me, please.'

Tm not teasing, Mo. If this house pleases you... it's my long delayed wedding present from the groom to the bride. If it does not please you, I'll sell it'

I broke ore of my roles; I let him see me cry.

Chapter 8 - Seacoast Bohemia

Brian held me and patted my back, then said, ‘Stop that infernal blubbering. Can't stand a woman's tears. Makes me horny.'

I stopped crying and snuggled up close to him. Then my eyes widened. ‘Goodness! A real Sunday special.' Brian maintained that the only effect church had on him was to arouse his passion, because he never listened to the service; he just thought about Mother Eve, who (he says) had red hair.

(I did not need to tell him that church had a similar effect on me. Every Sunday after church a ‘special' was likely to happen, once we got the children down for their naps.)

‘Now, now, my lady. Don't you want to look around your house first?'

‘I wasn't suggesting anything, Briney. I wouldn't dare do it here. Somebody might walk in.'

‘Nobody will. Didn't you notice that I bolted the front door? Maureen... I do believe that you didn't believe me when I said that I was giving this house to you.'

I took a deep breath, held it, let it out slowly. ‘My husband, if you tell me that the sun rises in the west, I will believe you. But I may not understand. And this time I do not understand.'

‘Let me explain. I can't really give this house to you, because it's already yours; you've paid for it. But, as a legality, title still rests in me. Sometime this coming week we'll change that, vest title in you. It is legal for a married woman to own real property in her own name in this state as long as the deed describes you as a married woman and I waive claim... and even that last is no ‘more than a precaution. Now as to how you bought it -‘

I bought it flat on my back, I did, ‘ringing the cash register'. The down payment was money Brian had saved while in the Army, plus money from a third mortgage his parents had accepted from him. This let him make a sizeable, down payment, with a first mortgage at the usual six per cent and a second mortgage at eight and a half per cent. The house was rented when he bought it; Brian kept the tenants, invested the rent to help pay off the mortgages.

The Howard bonus for Nancy cleared that too-expensive second mortgage; Carol's birth paid off Brian's parents. The Foundation's payment for Brian, Junior, let Brian, Senior, refinance the first mortgage down to the point where the rental income let him at last clear the property in May 1906, only six and a half years after he had assumed this huge pyramid of debt.

Briney is a gambler; I told him so.

‘Not really,' he answered, ‘as I was betting on you, darling. And you delivered. Like clockwork. Oh, Brian junior was a little later than I expected but the plan had some flexibility in it. While I had insisted on the privilege of paying off the first mortgage ahead of time, I didn't actually have to pay it earlier than June first, 1910. But you came through like the champion you are.'

A year ago he had discussed his projected programme with his tenants; a date was agreed on; they had moved out quite amicably just the Friday past. ‘So it's yours, darling. I did not renew our lease this time; Hennessy O'Scrooge knows we are leaving. We can move out tomorrow and move in here, if this house pleases you. Or shall we sell it?'

‘Don't talk about selling our housel Briney, if this truly is your wedding present to me, then at last I can make my bride's present to you. Your kitten.'

He grinned. ‘Our kitten, you mean. Yes, I had figured that out.'

We had postponed getting a kitten because there were dogs on both sides of the little house on 26^th - and one of them was a cat killer. By moving around the corner we had not gotten away from that menace.

Brian showed me around the place. It was a wonderful house: upstairs a big bathroom and a smaller one, a little bathroom downstairs adjacent to a maid's room, four bedrooms and a sleeping porch, a living-room, a parlour, a proper dining-room with a built-in china closet and a plate rail, a gas log in the parlour in what could be a fireplace for logs if the gas log was removed, a wonderful big kitchen, a formal front staircase and a convenient back staircase leading from the kitchen, privately oh, just everything and anything that a family with children could want, including a fenced back yard just right for children and pets... and for croquet and picnic dinners and a vegetable garden and a sand pile. I started to cry again.