't anything major wrong--rotten sills, bad water, or
something."

"We can get my friend Steve to inspect it," Jennifer said. "He's got a
business inspecting houses. He's very good."

"Where are the owners?"

"Owner. It's a guy. I guess his wife died, and he's moving out of town."

"Too bad," Oliver said. "Looks like he had a good garden in back."

"I saw that," Jennifer said.

"The house seems all right, but you can't be sure from the outside.
Heating system could be shot. Septic system might not be any good."

"I'll make an offer contingent on the inspection," she said. "Steve
will find anything that's wrong. He does a radon check and all that.
Costs about three hundred, I think. Three-fifty, maybe."

"Worth it," Oliver said. "The driveway is pretty rough, but that's no
big deal." He looked around. "I like it. What do you think, Princess?"
Emma googled. "That does it," Oliver said.

"I knew you'd like it," Jennifer said.

"Let's go down to Gillespie's and buy a pie, sit outside, and finish
this ale." They drove slowly away from the house and out to Route 9.
Jennifer had good bank connections; she was sure she could get a
mortgage for most of the money. Oliver said he had fifteen thousand
toward a down payment. Jennifer had another ten thousand.

"Daddy will give us another fifteen. That would leave seventy-five. I
know I can get seventy-five out of the bank. We make enough to take
care of the rest, fix it up, get furniture and all."

"Maybe we could go easy on the furniture," Oliver said.

"Don't worry, I won't go crazy. We'll have a housewarming!"

"You're right about the place--plenty of room, but not too big. It
would be good to get my tools laid out."

Five weeks later, they slid a check across a glass-topped table. A
tired balding man with a red face tossed Oliver a set of keys.
"Kentucky, here I come," he said.

"We want to wish you the very best of luck," Jennifer said.

"_Weren't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all_--that's how the
song goes. But, thank you." He stood, pulled a baseball cap down on his
forehead, and touched the brim in salute. "I'll be getting along." He
walked out.

"B.B. King," Oliver said. "Didn't he sing that?"

"Never mind, Oliver; we're bringing the good luck with us."

"Congratulations," Martha said.

"Oh, thank you!" Jennifer jumped up and hugged her. "Come on, Oliver.
We've got to move."

A week later, Oliver was sleeping in a new bed, high off the f