Harriet Beamer Strikes Gold (4 page)

I
T WAS JUST A LITTLE BEFORE SEVEN-THIRTY WHEN
H
ENRY
looked up from his work and saw Prudence standing at his den door. She had a funny grin on her face and was holding her briefcase in one hand and a small, yellow, plastic bag in the other.

“Hi, honey,” Henry said. “How was your day? Why are you standing there like that? You look like you just got made partner or something.”

Prudence walked over and kissed Henry’s cheek. “I had a terrific day. And not only that, but I have a feeling it’s going to get a whole lot better.”

“You mean when we tell Mom our plans? I know she is going to fall off her rocker. She saw the blueprints today in my den; they were rolled up. I told her they were plans for my book. I think she bought it.”

“Well, that will be fun, but … Henry, I stopped at the drugstore on my way home.”

“Uh hum,” Henry said, looking back to his monitor.

Prudence tapped the desk. “Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

“Okay, why?” He looked up from his work and pulled Prudence onto his lap. “Why did you go to the drugstore? Run out of shampoo?”

Prudence jiggled the bag. “I bought one of these today.”

“What? A tube of cortisone?”

“Henry.” Prudence pulled herself to her feet. “Look.”

Prudence reached into the bag and removed a small pink and blue box. “Not exactly.” She waved it in front of his face.

“Prudence, is that a—”

“Yep. Come on. Let’s take it for a spin.”

Harriet called Humphrey into the house. “Come on, I just heard Prudence drive up. Time to put the pasta in the pot.”

She removed the lid from the boiling water, dropped an entire pound of thin spaghetti into the pot, and gave it a quick stir. “Okay, Humphrey, dinner in nine minutes.”

Harriet set the kitchen table using the everyday stuff at first but then remembered the surprise Henry mentioned. “Maybe we should eat in the dining room and use the good dishes and maybe even have a glass of wine with our pasta.” Then she thought a moment and said to Humphrey, “Yep, wine. Then if Prudence doesn’t … imbibe, we’ll know, and Henry’s asking me this morning not to talk about babies and mentioning some surprise for me was a smoke screen.” She laughed a little like a mad scientist.

Humphrey let go a low woof and curled into a ball in a corner.

So she set the table with pretty cloth napkins, which she quickly folded to resemble swans—a trick she learned from a waiter on her trip across the country. She lit two white candles and opened a bottle of red wine she found tucked away in the dining room breakfront, so it could breathe.

She stepped back and looked at her handiwork. She might not be the world’s best cook, but Harriet Beamer could set a nice table.

“Oh, Humphrey, it’s lovely.” Harriet stood for a moment and
sighed. She really had missed caring for a family. She felt kind of bad for thinking negative thoughts about being here this morning.

The timer dinged and startled her. Harriet dumped the spaghetti into a metal colander. Steam rose from the pasta as the water drained into the sink. She prepared plates for the three of them, using Prudence’s Fiesta dinnerware plates. She gave Prudence the olive green one, Henry the bright orange plate, and herself the turquoise one. Humphrey, who happened to like leftover spaghetti, would have to wait—although she did still have a meatball cooling on the counter for him. And Humphrey knew it too. He sat in front of the sink waiting like a child.

“It’s coming,” Harriet said as she patted his head. “It’s coming.”

Harriet was just about to slice a loaf of crusty Italian bread when she remembered how persnickety Prudence was and washed her hands free of any possible doggie contamination.

“Nothing personal, boy.”

She set the sliced bread, the salad, Florence’s pie, and the filled plates on the table, and the oregano, garlicky aroma filled the dining room. It was still light outside, but the sun was on the downstroke, and the house was pretty much in shadows from the trees. The candles flickered sweetly. She turned on Henry’s iPod, and smooth jazz filtered through the room. Yes, this was definitely a celebration dinner—no matter what the big surprise was.

Next, she went into the living room expecting to see the kids. But they weren’t there. So she called down the hall. “Henry! Prudence! Dinner!”

She waited but did not hear them coming. She called a second time and still nothing. “Oh dear, the meal will get cold. Cold spaghetti is fine for breakfast but not for dinner.”

She walked closer to the master bedroom and was just about to call but stopped when she heard giggling and what she was certain was smooching.

“Good grief, can’t they wait until after dinner?”

She was just about to knock on their bedroom door when it opened and out walked Henry and Prudence still giggling and holding hands.

“There you are. I’ve been calling,” Harriet said. “Soup’s on, and it’s getting cold.”

“Sorry, Mom,” they said together. “We had to … we had something to discuss,” Prudence said.

“Well, I hope it’s about the secret. I’m busting.”

“Oh, you’ll find out,” Henry said.

Harriet led the way to the dining room as Sandra Day sashayed past as though she had been privy to the conversation.

“What’s this?” Prudence said. “A fancy dinner in the middle of the week?”

“Yep,” Harriet said as she picked up the bottle of wine. “Henry said you two have a good surprise, and I am hoping it is a good surprise worthy of a celebration. Wine, dear?” she asked Prudence.

Prudence rested her palm on top of her wine glass. “Oh, no thank you. Not tonight.”

Harriet looked at Humphrey with raised brows. “That’s A-okay with me,” she said.

Henry stood. “That reminds me, Mom, I need to go get your surprise.” He glanced at Prudence. Harriet noticed the look on Prudence’s face. Confusion. The same thing Harriet was feeling.

“Where are you going, honey?” Prudence asked.

“To get the … you know, the special surprise—for Mom. The one we’ve been working on.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot. It’s in your den.”

The den. Now Harriet was about as confused as she ever was in her life. The only surprise she could think of was the one she had been waiting a very long time to hear, but how on earth could Henry go to get it? This was making no sense at all. Her excitement deflated like a balloon. She was most definitely wrong.

But off Henry went as Harriet and Prudence sat staring each other down like two wrestlers until Prudence, who had not stopped smiling, looked at her plate of spaghetti. She rolled a meatball around with her fork. “It looks delicious, Mother. And smells divine.”

“Divine?” Harriet said. “Who talks like that? Come on. What gives? What are you two up to?”

But Prudence only smiled. “You’ll see, Mom. Patience.”

Henry returned, carrying the roll of blueprints or, as Harriet was told, the storyboards she spied in Henry’s den. Her heart sank. It wasn’t the surprise she had been hoping for at all. And why would she care about Henry’s book plot? That was his business.

“Oh,” Harriet said, “maybe we should just eat first. The spaghetti is getting cold. The surprise can wait.”

To which Humphrey said, “Woof.”

“Good idea,” Prudence said. “I’m starving. I had a very big day.” Then she smiled.

Henry said grace, adding a very cryptic ending to his usual dinner prayer. “And thank you so much for the big news.”

Harriet said, “Amen,” and then, “I think a glass of wine would be nice.”

“Um, sounds good,” Henry said.

“Oh, none for me,” Prudence said for a second time. “I’m … watching my weight.” Then she giggled again, and that was when Harriet could not contain her thoughts another minute.

“Hold on just a cotton-pickin’ minute. What is going on? Those are not storyboards, and you”—she looked at Prudence—“are positively glowing. And, frankly, dear, I have never heard you giggle so much in all the years I’ve known you.”

“I’ve never known her to giggle so much either,” Henry said.

Prudence smiled and dropped her fork on her plate. “Isn’t that what they say about … about pregnant women?”

Harriet felt her eyes grow almost as big as oranges at that moment. Her heart beat fast as a wave of pride and excitement washed over her. For an instant she thought the room went black like before a faint. But it didn’t. If anything the room brightened. “Oh dear, you mean it? You … you’re … a baby? I knew it. I knew it all the time. Those storyboards were just a big fat decoy.”

“Yes,” Henry said. “We’re preg—well, Pru is pregnant. But we, she and I, are having a baby.”

Harriet cried. She sat right there and cried into her spaghetti. “I’m so happy. I have to call Martha.” Then she looked at Henry and jumped up and hugged him. Then she hugged Prudence, who started to cry, and then Humphrey whimpered and Henry swiped tears from his eyes.

“Well,” Harriet said. “I can’t eat. I’m too excited to eat.”

“You might not be able to eat for a week,” Henry said. “There’s more. Another surprise.”

“More?” Harriet said. “How can there be more? Pregnant is pregnant. Unless you’re having twins and, frankly, I don’t know if those fancy dancy tests they have nowadays can tell you that this early on.”

“No, no,” Henry said. “It’s not twins—well, at least we don’t know if we’re having twins. We have another surprise.”

“Okay, okay, tell me. But remember, I’ve already had one heart attack.”

“Henry,” Prudence said. “I think we should eat first. After all, Mom went to all the trouble to prepare it.”

Harriet sighed again. She patted Prudence’s hand. “You know, dear, you are absolutely right. We should eat—especially you. A pregnant woman needs to keep up her strength.”

“Oh, I really am going to watch my weight gain,” Prudence said.

Harriet laughed. “That’s nice, dear. You go right ahead and
watch.” Then she looked at Henry, who was munching a meatball. “We all will.”

“Okay, okay,” Henry said. “Let’s eat. Second surprise later. Over lemon meringue pie. Now, why don’t you tell Prudence about your trip to the gold mine?”

Harriet’s heart sped. “Oh my goodness, I had the most wonderful time visiting the Empire Gold Mine. I went with that Florence Caldwell down the street. You know, Henry’s friend. She’s the one who gave us this lemon meringue pie. Any-hoo, she took me, and it was spectacular.”

Prudence finished chewing and said, “That’s great. It’s a really neat place.”

“Yes, yes it is,” Harriet said. “And I learned so much about gold and gold mining. Did you know not all gold is under the ground? Some of it is just hanging out in rivers and gravel beds just waiting to be picked like tiny little flowers.”

“I did know that,” Prudence said. “Placer mines are all over the place. Ha, maybe that’s why they call them that.”

Harriet shook her head. “I bet it’s because that’s where Mother Nature just happens to place the gold nuggets.”

Prudence twisted more strands of spaghetti around her fork. “I don’t think there are many real nuggets around. Not like you think. It’s mostly dust and little specks.”

“A nugget’s a nugget no matter how small,” Harriet said.

Prudence laughed. “All right, Dr. Seuss, but it takes a lot of tiny nuggets to make one worth its weight.”

“I still think it’s fascinating. Florence said I could even find a place that will let me pan for gold. In a stream.”

“Oh sure, there are lots of places like that around. But you won’t get rich.”

Harriet slipped a piece of meatball to Humphrey, even though he had already eaten the one she cooled for him. “Oh, I know that. I’d need a lease on a larger plot of land.”

Prudence nodded her head. “I think it’s time for that incredible-looking pie.” Apparently, Prudence wasn’t going to watch her weight so closely that she wouldn’t eat a slice of a Florence Caldwell pie.

“I’ll say,” Henry said with just a little too much gusto for Harriet’s liking. She knew she had to stop feeling jealous of Florence Caldwell, but still, Henry never really fussed over
her
cooking—or anything else Harriet did for that matter. Oh geeze, why was she letting herself think this way? She willed the negative thoughts away.

“Just a small slice for me,” Harriet said. “Too much lemon upsets my stomach.”

“Okay,” Prudence said. The conversation quickly turned to talk of baby furniture and baby names and even morning sickness until Harriet all of a sudden had a terrible thought. A thought she wasn’t sure she should even say out loud. The possibilities were just too awful. So she grew quiet and finished her meal—including a second glass of wine.

But the silence didn’t last long. She didn’t want to upset Prudence or Henry, but she just had to ask. Harriet could not hold it in another minute. So the second Henry swallowed the last of his lemon meringue pie, she said, “What about me?”

“You?” Henry said. “I don’t understand. You’re going to be a grandmother. Of course, you’ll need to decide what you want little Henry or Henrietta to call you.”

“Henrietta!” Prudence said. “I am not naming my child Henrietta.”

“Why, dear?” Harriet asked. “It’s a lovely name. It was my mother’s.”

Prudence shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mother. It’s just—”

Henry laughed. “She’s lying, Pru. Her mother’s name was Louise.”

Harriet laughed. “What I mean is, what about me? You made
me move here, and you must admit this house is small. Three bedrooms, and I can’t imagine Prudence will give up her office or you your den, Henry. So that means my room will become the nursery and—”

Henry stood. “Relax, Mom. That’s the other surprise.”

“What? You’re sending me back to Pennsylvania?”

“No,” Henry said. “Let me tell you. We were planning this even before we found out Prudence is pregnant.” He looked at Prudence, and Harriet was fairly certain she saw his eyes twinkle with tears. Then he grabbed the roll of papers. “Come on, let’s go in the living room. There’s more room to spread out.”

Humphrey also followed Harriet into the living room and flopped at Prudence’s feet once she sat down in the big, over-stuffed chair. “See that,” Harriet said. “He knows he’s going to be an uncle.”