Harriet Beamer Strikes Gold (8 page)

“And that’s just the dust,” Lily said. “The real stuff, the money gold, is up higher, still big and heavy enough to stay where we can get at it. That’s why we need money. It takes machinery to get in there.”

“That’s right,” Win said. “Crickets has one machine working, but we need another.”

Harriet took a breath. “I can’t wait to tell Henry about this.” She pulled out her camera to snap a picture.

Win grabbed her hand. “Oh, now, hold on a second, Harriet. I know you’re eager, but Old Man Crickets won’t appreciate it if you go taking pictures of his mine before the paperwork is signed.”

Harriet dropped her phone in her purse. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

“But hold on, I was saving these for the right moment. He reached into his pants pocket. “Had these in the truck. Pictures of your mine, Harriet. The place way up yonder.” He pointed.

“Oh, let me see.”

Win showed her a picture of what looked like a wasteland, scrub brush, and a small, shallow creek. A backhoe was on the
right and also a funny-looking contraption that looked like a long box with water running down it.

“What’s that?” Harriet asked.

“That’s your mine.”

“No, I mean that.” She pointed to the box.

“That’s what you call a sluice box. It helps to separate the gold from the other rocks and ores.”

“Now, how does it do that?”

“Well, gold is heavy. It sinks. Whatever ain’t gold is washed away.”

“Oh,” Harriet said. “So that’s my mine?”

“Your little section of it. Just as soon as you sign the papers and, well, you know, give me the money. We can bump up operations and be producing gold right quick.”

“So what do you say, Harriet?” Lily asked. “Will you help us?” Her voice sounded like a little girl needing Christmas to come.

Harriet couldn’t help it. Her heart was beating so fast she had to will it to slow down. She had never been so enamored with anything in her life.

H
ENRY STARED AT THE COMPUTER SCREEN.
H
E HATED IT
when the screen stared back. Mocking him, egging him on like a playground bully. Didn’t the computer know he had run out of words for the day? But with being so close to a deadline, he had to keep pushing.

It was hard to write. He couldn’t help but think of Prudence, and every time he did, the worry crept back in. He did his best to give it to God. But still the worry persisted. Most of the time, when he got stuck in that kind of a loop, he could use it to his advantage in his writing. He could channel those feelings and use them to help his characters express themselves. But he was tired. He had spent too much valuable sleeping time watching Prudence sleep. Like she was going to explode or something or because he could hardly believe she was carrying his child. Still, tired was tired no matter the reason.

“Maybe that’s it, Humphrey. Maybe I’m tired. It’s hard to be a brilliant writer when you are tired. I suppose it’s hard to be a brilliant dog when you’re tired.”

Henry patted the dog’s head. The dog gave him a look, and then arched his wiry brows.

“I suppose that’s true,” Henry said. “I am blessed to be living my dream.”

Henry checked his calendar, another procrastination trick. “The builders are coming a week from Monday,” he said to Humphrey. “That might help. Maybe.” Maybe having all that activity around him would be a good thing. It could be distracting. Or maybe he just had to get over it. Prudence was fine. The baby was fine. Even his mother was fine.

“Mother,” he said looking at Humphrey. “Where do you suppose she is? I hope she’s not up to something.” He felt sort of bad for not letting her finish what she had to say earlier.

But she’d tell him later. For now it was good to be alone. Or so he tried to convince himself.

“Now back to work, old man.”

Humphrey tilted his head and settled into his sleeping position.

The instant Henry poised his fingers over the keyboard his phone jingled. “Drat!” He looked at the name. “Martha? Why would she be calling my number?”

Humphrey was not so much interested.

Henry tapped Answer. “Hello.”

“Henry,” Martha said, “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“No, no,” Henry said. “I can use a little break.” He took a breath and leaned back in his chair.

“Okay, as long as I’m not disturbing you.”

“No, not at all. What’s up? How’s back east?”

“Beautiful. The leaves are changing already. That sugar maple in your … well, your old front yard is gorgeous. Always the first to turn.”

Henry could see the tree in his mind. “It always was so pretty.”

“I’ve been trying to reach your mother. But she hasn’t answered her cell. I was hoping she was home, if that’s where you are.”

“No, sorry, she isn’t here. She went out a while ago.”

“I rang her phone ten times in the last two hours. I’m beginning to get worried that she fell into a ditch or something.”

Henry smiled. “I doubt she fell into a ditch, but that is odd. She
always answers her phone or calls back pretty quickly. Maybe she has the phone somewhere else and she can’t hear it. Or she could have the sound off. She’s done that too. Or she left it in the car.”

“You’re probably right. But I really wanted to speak to her.”

Henry pulled a yellow pencil from the pencil mug on his desk and drummed with it. “She went into town to do some … shopping. I expect her home pretty soon. I’ll make sure I tell her you’ve been calling and to check her phone.”

“Okay, well, I was just wondering … has she … well …”

“Told us you are coming?”

“Yes.”

Henry sensed nervousness in Martha’s voice. “Yep, she told us. And we’d love to have you.”

“Are you sure it won’t be an imposition? I could stay at a hotel or a bed and breakfast.”

“Nope. In fact I think it will be great for Mom. She’s been kind of knocking around the house like a stray pinball.” Henry assumed his mother hadn’t reached Martha yet if she didn’t know it was okay for her to visit. That meant she didn’t know about the baby either. He wouldn’t tell. He’d let Harriet share the good news.

“Well, thank you, Henry. I guess I’ll go ahead and buy my ticket.”

“Yep. Anytime. Tuesdays are generally the cheapest days to fly, and we’ll be happy to come get you.”

“I’d be flying into Sacramento, is that right?” Martha said.

“Yes. It’s about an hour or so drive. But don’t worry about that. It’s our pleasure.”

“So is this coming Tuesday okay? I know it’s short notice. And I hope a two-week stay is really all right.”

Henry was surprised the visit would be so soon, but he’d explain to Pru.

“Yep. Say, how is Wyatt?” Henry asked. He decided to change the subject just in case he sounded hesitant.

“I haven’t heard from him in a few years. Last I knew he was in school but not very happy.”

Martha seemed to sputter a little. “Oh. He’s … he’s doing okay.”

“Good,” Henry said, even though he sensed something wasn’t quite right. “And how about you? Mom mentioned something about a health scare.”

“Oh … um, that. Well, it turned out to be nothing. I’m fine. Gonna live to be a hundred.”

“That’s good to hear. Now, you go ahead and book your flight, and I’ll tell Mom you called.”

“Thank you, honey,” Martha said. “I can’t wait to see California.”

“You might not want to go back,” Henry said.

“Oh, I’d need a pretty good reason to move lock, stock, and barrel across the country.”

“I know,” Henry said. He drummed the pencil. “It will be good to see you for however long you stay.”

“You too,” Martha said.

Henry tapped off the phone. He looked down at Humphrey, who had started to snore. “Now where do you suppose Mom is?”

He tapped in Harriet’s number. No answer. “Um,” he said to Humphrey. “That’s strange. I hope she’s okay.”

A little more than an hour later Harriet had handed Win a sizable bundle of cash and was standing outside the bank shaking his hand. Win had said that cash was preferable because he could get it to Old Man Crickets and into the hands of the workers faster and secure equipment without delay. She signed the several official-looking papers and was feeling a tad anxious. So anxious that her hand wobbled when she wrote her name and so her signature was not as pretty as it usually was.

“Now don’t you fret,” Win said. “I’ll get these copied and get you your copies right quick.”

“Okay, dear.” Harriet needed to catch her breath. She was starting to feel a bit winded from the whole ordeal. She might be spry and active, but she was still seventy-two and the last few hours had been a bit of a whirlwind.

Win folded the pages and stuffed them into his shirt pocket. He smiled at Harriet through yellowing teeth, and for the first time Harriet noticed a wide gap between his two front teeth.

“All you need to do now is sit back and wait for the mine to start producing and then rake in the cash.” A small puff of coffee-laced breath swirled around.

Harriet liked the sound of that, especially now with the baby on the way and considering how much money she had just forked over to pay for her new Grammy Suite.

“Thank you, Mrs. Beamer,” Lily, who had been very quiet through the transaction, said. “This is going to help so much.” Lily hugged her. Harriet enjoyed how it felt to hug Lily back. She enjoyed young people and thought maybe she and Lily could be friends. “Oh, dear, you can just call me Harriet. I’d like us to be friends, not just business partners.”

Lily pulled back and said, “I’d like that.”

“On second thought,” Harriet said, “I could be like your grandma.”

Lily’s eyes twinkled. “Really? I ain’t never had a grandma. Not like a real family.” She looked away.

“Well, you do now, and I’m just tickled pink to be part of it,” Harriet said. “I can’t wait to see the gold come out of the mine.”

“Now, now, hold on there,” Win said. “Like I told you, the actual placer is way up on the mountain. All you have to do is wait down here.”

Harriet looked up at Win. “That’s what I meant. I’m really not all that interested in climbing mountains. Not anymore.” She took
Lily’s hand. “I’ll just count on you two giving me some firsthand reports.”

“Alrighty then,” Win said with a tip of his cowboy hat. “I’ll be in touch real soon.”

Harriet swallowed. “Okay. I guess I better be heading home. I think I’ve been gone a lot longer than Henry expected. I’m sure he’s worried sick over that car.”

Win shook her hand. “Now this has been an exciting day.”

“It certainly has,” Harriet said. “Never in my wildest imaginations have I imagined something like this happening to me.”

She looked into Lily’s eyes. “And I made a new friend.”

Harriet strolled with a little less of a spring in her step across the street to the parking lot. The day had turned into much more than she had planned. That was for sure. If someone would have said she’d be the proud investor in a gold mine earlier that morning, she would have said they were crazy. But nonetheless, here she was with a lease and feeling an odd mixture of pride and fear.

The BMW was a little dusty and grimy from the ride to Downieville. “I better get you washed,” she said. “Henry will have a conniption fit if he sees all that dirt.”

The nearest car wash she could find was a little farther away from downtown than she liked. It was the kind you drove through, and as often as she did she still felt a little claustrophobic as the giant rollers and huge rubber wipers did the job. The car wash was also one of the ones that sold gas, which was a good thing since Harriet thought she should gas up the car also after driving it all that distance.

Once she was out on the straightaway toward home she started to weigh the pros and cons of telling Henry and Prudence about the gold mine. On the one hand it would be nice to have all that free legal advice, but on the other hand she didn’t want them telling
her she was foolish and wasting her money. No, she’d wait a while to tell, maybe after she had a couple of real gold nuggets to show them. Then she could say she is saving for her grandchild’s college education. What parent could argue with that? Nope, she’d hold off on telling and enjoy keeping her secret to herself. Well, she’d tell Martha.

Martha! In all the excitement, Harriet hadn’t arrived home when she had wanted to call Martha. She would need to call the minute she got home. Harriet put pedal to the metal and sped home, keeping a close lookout for the police.

She looked at herself in the rearview mirror as she passed a cow pasture. “Goodness, Harriet, you look a mess.” She felt like a mess also, tired and excited. “You are going to be so excited for me, Martha,” Harriet said out loud. “Of course, you can’t tell a soul, not a living soul.”

Harriet pulled the car into their driveway on Butterfly Lane just as a Fed Ex truck stopped in front of the house. Harriet waited a second until the driver, a young woman, jumped out. She went to the back of the truck and opened the lift. Oh, to be that nimble.

Harriet climbed out of the car and started toward the front door but had only gotten two or three paces when she heard her name.

“Are you Harriet Beamer?” the driver called.

“Yes. Yes, I am,” Harriet said. “Do you have a package for me?”

“I do,” the driver said. “But I wanted to meet you. I feel like I know you already. Henry has told me so much.”

Harriet couldn’t help but feel a little confused. “I don’t understand. Are you and Henry friends?”

“Well, kind of. I delivered all those packages you were sending. Henry said they were salt and pepper shakers. You’ve become kind of a legend at the depot.”

Harriet smiled. “Oh for heaven’s sake. Me? A legend? All I
did was send my collection and the shakers I found in my travels across the country.”

“Well, even so. We got a kick out of it. At least I did. And here’s another package addressed to you. From Maggie Valley, North Carolina.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake. It must be from Ricky and Shawna.” Harriet smiled at the driver. “They’re my Native American friends—Cherokee to be specific. They took me stargazing. I think stargazing is one of the most spectacular things a person can do.” Harriet signed for the package. “Thank you very much. I wonder what they would be sending me.”

“Probably more shakers. You are a hoot and a half, Harriet Beamer,” the driver said. “Have a nice day.”

“Thank you—I think.”

Harriet carried the smallish, brown package into the house. She gave it a slight shake but didn’t hear anything. She set it on the ottoman as Humphrey trotted over. His tail was wagging a mile a minute. It had been a long day without her. Harriet patted him. “Hello, puppy,” she said. “Did you miss me?” Sometimes Harriet wondered if Humphrey worried that every absence meant she was off on another adventure and that he could very well be stuck inside the belly of another airplane on his way to who knew where.

“I told you I’d be back,” she said with her most reassuring tone and several pats on his side. He responded by falling onto his back so she could get in a good belly rub also. And that was when she remembered she had forgotten to stop at a bakery. “Oh, Humphrey. I’m sorry. I forgot your …” She didn’t dare say the word
donut
, hoping he might have forgotten. And why remind him just to get him upset? That didn’t seem right. After a couple more good rubs, Humphrey scrambled to his short little legs and trotted off, but not without giving Harriet a disappointed, mournful look.

He never forgets.

That was when Henry appeared in the living room. “Mom,”
Henry said, “where have you been? You’ve been gone all day. I was starting to worry. You didn’t answer your phone. I called several times.” Henry stood in the doorway between the living room and his den. He had a pencil sticking from one ear, and his arms crossed against his chest like he was reprimanding a tardy child.

“You did?” Harriet said. “Oh for crying out loud, Henry, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear the phone jingle.” Harriet rifled through her bag—it was a large thing, more of a tote bag, with a bright yellow background and covered with flowers. She loved the bag as it had served many purposes over the last year, from carry-all to weapon. “I know I brought the fool thing with me. Where is it?” She removed a small flashlight, her favorite Moleskine notebook, two pens, a wadded up Kleenex, six pennies, a pack of orange Tic Tacs, and a tube of hand lotion concocted with oatmeal.