cash a bond. I’ll have to work it out with Henry. But I won’t let you down. I
promised. I know it.’
`My good Susan. Dear, Princess settled it, I think, when she managed to find per way
home in only three days, when she’s never been anywhere before. Yes, I’m selling
this house but we are moving only a mile or so. I want a smaller house and not all
this acreage. I can persuade Princess to accept a new home that close by, I think;
it is a problem I’ve coped with before.’
Susan let out a deep sigh. `Mama, have I told you lately that you’re wonderful?’
‘No.’
‘You’re wonderful!’
‘Thank you. Is that all?’ (The clock was crowding me.)
`Just one thing. Aunt Eleanor was here today -‘
`She was? I thought she was in Toronto. On Saturday she didn’t say anything about
going to Arizona.’
`Uncle Justin went to Toronto; she came here. To Scottsdale, I mean. She’s going to
Toronto. Right away, if this works. She’s had caretaker trouble two seasons now, she
tells me, and she wants Hanky and me to move into their place and take care of it.
What do you think?’
(I think you would be out of your mind to move into the luxurious summer palace of a
super-millionaire; you’ll learn bad habits and fancy tastes – that’s no way to start
a marriage. And that commuting up and down Scottsdale’s Road – six miles? seven? –
might take up enough time each day to interfere with your studies.) Susan, what I
think does not matter. What does your husband think?’
‘He suggested that I talk to you.’
‘But what does he think?’
‘Uh… I’m not sure. Will you talk to him?’
‘Have him call me back. Susan, I have a business appointment and I’m late; I’ve got
to switch off. Bye!’
Whew! Nine-thirty-five – I punched up Harriman and Strong, got the same female
zombie as yesterday. `Maureen Johnson speaking. Let me speak to George Strong.’
`Mr Strong is not available. Will you record -‘
`We went through that routine yesterday. I’m Maureen Johnson and he has an
appointment with me at my house in twenty minutes and you know it! Catch him before
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he leaves the building or phone him in his car. Move, damn it!’
‘I’m here, Maureen.’ George’s face replaced hers. ‘I’ve been held up. Will you
forgive me if I make it ten-thirty instead of ten?’
`Quite all right, George. You, recall those envelopes I left with you in 1947?’
‘Certainly. In my personal safe. Never mingled with business papers.’
`Would you, please, bring with you envelopes numbers one and two?’
`Certainly, dear lady.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
I switched off. ‘Up we go, darlings, and bathe and dress. Priscilla, come share my
bath’- and my bidet; you smell like a whorehouse and don’t realise it, dear – ‘and
we’ll put you into something of mine. Something summery, the day is going to be a
scorcher. Shorts and a halter, probably. Donald, Patrick left some clothes behind,
so look around. Shorts and a T-shirt, maybe. Or Levi’s. We’ll stop at the Plaza
later and do some fast shopping. Don’t use all the hot water – three baths at once.
Be ready by ten-twenty. On your marks, get set, go!’
George had two houses to show me. One was near 75th Street and Mission Road in
Johnson County, close to Shawnee Mission East High School. It belonged to New World
Homes, a Harriman Enterprise, and had all the newer than-tomorrow touches New World
Homes was famous for – and it reminded me of a Bauhaus fiat.
My youngsters loved it.
The other was on the Missouri side of the line, about half way between our old house
and Southwest High School, off Linden Road. It was not as new. The appearance of the
development and my memory told me that it had been built in 1940, give or take a
year.
‘George, this is a J. C. Nichols subdivision.’
‘The Nichols organisation always builds excellent houses. This came into our hands
because I bought it from one of our executives in a compassionate move, following a