Harriet Beamer Strikes Gold (9 page)

“Life was definitely easier when we weren’t all in communication every minute of every day,” she said. “All it does is lead to unnecessary worry.”

Harriet found her phone wedged between a small copy of the New Testament she carried and a red wallet crammed with coupons she never used.

“Here it is,” she said, holding it up obviously so Henry could witness the fact that she had taken the phone into town with her. “See, no need to worry, dear. I had my phone.”

“I can see that,” Henry said. “But it’s only good if you turn it on. Otherwise it’s a paperweight.”

“I know that, son. And if I needed you, if I ran the car up a telephone pole or into a moose, I would have turned it on and called.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just worried about a lot of things right now.”

Harriet looked into her son’s Hershey-chocolate-bar-colored eyes. “I know, honey. But you have got to calm down. Prudence and the baby are doing great. You’re the one who isn’t, and if you keep up this level of worry, by the time the baby is born you’ll be a babbling, gray-haired, worrywart stringing beads at a mental
hospital. Isn’t that what the good Lord says, worry is not going to add a single … whatever it is … to your life. Worry just subtracts.”

“I know. It’s just—”

Harriet patted his cheek. “She’ll be fine. The baby will be fine. I know.”

“Thanks, Mom. But where have you been?”

“Oh, well, I told you where I was going. I went into town and got a—”

“Is that a package?” Henry said.

“Yes. It just arrived. It’s from my friends in Maggie Valley.”

“That’s nice.”

Harriet opened the package and pulled out two, gold, star-shaped objects. “Oh, that was so sweet of them,” Harriet said. “They remind me of the night we went stargazing.”

“Oh, that is thoughtful,” Henry said.

Harriet shoved the wrappings into the box. “I think Humphrey needs to go out.”

“So did you buy anything?” Henry asked.

“I did.”

“Where is it? In the car? Do you need help carrying it inside?”

Harriet couldn’t help but burst into laughter. She recovered quickly, thinking about a gold mine in the living room, and looked away from Henry. “No, no, let’s just say it will be delivered when it’s time.”

“Oh, good idea. And we don’t have moose in Grass Valley.”

“No? Then what do you have?”

“Bears. Grizzlies and elk.”

“Okay, I will definitely call you if and when I meet a grizzly bear in downtown Grass Valley.”

“Oh, and another thing,” Henry said as Harriet checked her phone. “I spoke with Martha today.”

“Oh dear,” Harriet said. “She called my cell phone ten times. I missed every call.”

“That’s why she called me.” Henry sat on the couch and tied his shoe laces. “She’s making plans to come on Tuesday. I told her that’s fine.”

“Really? This Tuesday?” Harriet said. She sat on the couch and untied her sneakers. “That’s wonderful, but oh dear. Tuesday? I have so much to do to get ready.”

Henry stood. “She sounded great, Mom, and is so pleased to be coming. We had a nice conversation.”

“Henry,” Harriet said practically leaping from the couch. “Did you give her the good news? The baby news?”

Henry chuckled. “No, don’t worry. I saved that for you.”

Harriet sat on the edge of her bed with Humphrey at her feet.

“I suppose I can tell you,” she said as she reached down and patted his side. “But you have to promise not to tell a soul.”

Humphrey didn’t move much except to swish his tail slightly.

“I leased a … a gold mine. There I said it. Out loud. I can hardly believe it.” All of a sudden Harriet was struck with a case of what she called monkey nerves. “A gold mine, Humphrey. Mommy leased a gold mine.”

Humphrey looked up at her with a decidedly incredulous expression and then laid his head on her foot with a whimper.

“Oh dear. I hope I didn’t make a terrible mistake.”

Humphrey let go a woof.

She changed into more comfortable clothes, jeans and a light sweater. She placed her Chucks near the closet and then grabbed her cell phone to call Martha.

“Martha, you are not going to believe it,” Harriet said the instant Martha said, “Hello.”

“Harriet,” Martha said. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I have been having quite a busy day. My phone was in the bottom of my tote. I never heard it ringing.”

“Well, I wanted to tell you that I could come soon. I spoke with Henry earlier and he said Tuesday would be fine.”

“I know. And I’m so happy. I can’t wait to see you, but you haven’t heard the big news. Prudence is pregnant.” Harriet’s heart skipped a beat. She was so excited to say the words out loud. “Prudence and Henry are going to have a baby.”

“Oh, Harriet, I am so happy for you. For you and … and everyone. When is the baby due?”

“In the spring”—she did a quick cipher on her fingers—“April, I think. A spring baby. Isn’t that just so sweet? Henry was a winter baby and winter babies can be difficult.”

“Congratulations,” Martha said. “That is wonderful, wonderful news.”

“Thank you, and of course you will be Aunt Martha.”

“Now you just want to make me cry.”

Harriet almost mentioned Wyatt, but thought better of it. Wyatt had yet to marry, and Martha never talked much about becoming a grandmother. Especially lately, now that she thought about it.

“Don’t cry, dear. This is a joyous time and not only that but … but there’s something more.”

“More news?”

Harriet took a deep breath, glanced out the bedroom window, and thought a moment. No. News of the gold mine was better delivered in person. And she would keep the news about the addition until Martha got there too so she could see her face. “Nothing. I will tell you when you get here, but it’s a secret. You’ll have to promise not to tell the kids.”

“Okay. I’ll promise.”

T
HE NEXT COUPLE OF DAYS FLEW PAST
. H
ARRIET BUSIED
herself with getting everything ready for Martha. And Henry had located a bed and had it delivered in record speed. And now it was Monday, the day before Martha’s arrival. Harriet could hardly contain her enthusiasm. She looked over the room before having breakfast, imagining what it would be like to have her best friend in the world staying with her.

“Will you look at those curtains? They’re nice, but they could use refreshing.”

Harriet wanted something brighter. New curtains could bring a room a complete new look.

Later that morning, she and Florence Caldwell went into town together and bought a few things, including the curtains—bright yellow with pink flowers—and three sets of brand new sheets. Nothing to be jealous about over curtains or sheets, and Florence was a pleasant shopping partner.

“Not much beats brand new, Egyptian cotton sheets,” Florence had said as they stood in line waiting to pay for their treasures.

“So smooth,” Harriet said. Then she laughed. “Do you remember the sheets we slept in as newlyweds? Egyptian cotton was never heard of.”

“I do remember. I think I used the cheapest sheets for ten years of marriage. It was like sleeping on sandpaper some nights.

“Your friend will be very comfortable,” Florence continued. “You must be very close.”

“That will be seventy-five, twenty-two,” the cashier said.

Harriet swiped her card and went through the menus before answering.

“We are close,” Harriet said as she slipped the card back into its spot in her wallet. “I don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t have Martha right after Max died. She helped me through some pretty shaky weeks.”

“I hear that,” Florence said. “There is nothing like a good friend.”

Harriet smiled. “I know she’ll love these curtains.” It was nice that Florence understood about Martha.

They made a couple of other stops in the store before heading to the car. Harriet purchased a small bud vase and a pair of warm socks. “It’s not cold yet,” she had said. “But these are so cuddly.

Keep my tootsies toasty.”

Florence pulled her minivan onto the main street. “Where to?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I could eat.”

“Good idea.”

“I ate at that little café, Rachel’s. It was kind of nice.”

“Oh, Rachel’s is a good spot. Let’s go. And Harriet, lunch is on me.”

Harriet did not argue, considering all the money she had been putting out in the last few months. Her reserves were nearly depleted, which made the whole gold mine enterprise that much more important. She hadn’t told Florence about the lease. She wanted Martha to be the first person to know. But she was beginning to think she should, especially since she had yet to hear from
Win or Lily since their initial transaction or get copies of the signed papers. Over lunch. She would tell Florence over a veggie wrap and fries and get her advice.

Florence parked in the lot, and the two made their way to Rachel’s Café. It was a little before one o’clock and the place was hopping. But it didn’t take long to get a seat. Many of those waiting were getting take-out.

The same waitress, Cindy, led them to the table Harriet had sat at before, promising to bring coffee right away. And as they passed the counter, Harriet once again saw that woman from the other day, leaning over a book. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something odd about her. She stood out like a broken toe.

“I think I’ll have grilled cheese,” Florence said.

“Veggie wrap and fries for me,” Harriet said with a glance toward the strange woman.

“What’s up?” Florence asked, turning toward where Harriet was looking. “Do you know her?”

Harriet turned her attention back to Florence. “No. It’s just that she was here the other day when I … I …” She could not say the words. Now, all of a sudden, she was filled with utter embarrassment and couldn’t get the words out.

“When you what?” Florence asked.

Cindy set down two cups of coffee. “Where’s your little friend today?” she said to Harriet.

Harriet’s heart sped. “I … I don’t know. She’s really not my friend. We had just met that day.”

Cindy shook her head. “Uh huh. Can I take your orders?”

“What was that all about?” Florence asked after Cindy left.

Harriet let go a huge sigh. She tried to stall as long as she could, dumping Half and Half into her coffee, stirring it as though she were trying to make butter, looking every which way but at Florence.

“Okay, here’s the thing,” Harriet said. “The other day I was in here, and I met this girl, Lily. She was waiting for her father, who was at the assay office.”

Florence stopped her right there. “Oh no, I think I know where this is leading. Did you get snookered into buying some fake gold nuggets? Fool’s gold?”

Harriet felt her eyebrows rise and her cheeks flush. “Well, not nuggets. At least not per se, not exclusively.”

Florence let a small chuckle escape her mouth. “Then what? What did you do?”

“Okay, okay. I leased a mine. Well, a section called Brunner’s Run.”

For a second or two, Florence didn’t say a word or make a sound.

Harriet glanced around the café. The woman was still leaning over her book, although she had seemed to shift more toward Harriet and Martha.

“Okay, you say you leased a mine. Tell me about it,” Florence finally said.

Harriet proceeded to explain the whole thing. Florence seemed to know quite a lot about placer mines and such, and that actually gave Harriet a certain amount of comfort. But still, she found it necessary to ask, “Do you think I was scammed?”

Florence chewed her sandwich and looked pensive a moment. “Not necessarily. There are plenty of legitimate mines and leases around, but I guess you should be careful. Get Prudence to check it out.”

Harriet swallowed. “I can’t. I haven’t told them, and I won’t tell them. Not until I have made a profit.”

“You know that could be a long, long time.”

Harriet pulled a piece of cucumber from her veggie wrap and set it on the side of her plate. “I don’t like cucumbers. Pre-pickles, that’s all they are. Slimy pre-pickles.”

“You should tell Henry,” Florence said.

“I can’t, and, Florence, please, promise me you won’t tell either.”

“Okay. I promise.”

Harriet looked into Florence’s eyes. “I’m serious. I’ll tell him when I’m ready.”

“I promise.”

After having little success at home, Henry had gone to his favorite coffee shop that morning to work, leaving a note for his mother so she’d know where he had gone when she got back from shopping with Florence. A place called JavaScone. It had a nice ambience, artsy with original paintings by local artists on the walls. Rustic wood tables with tiny votive candles and a seemingly endless array of sweets.
A Horse with No Name
was playing in the background when he got there, and Henry hummed along as he chose a vanilla latte and a blueberry scone.

He sat down at the only remaining table near the window and opened his laptop. It was a particularly hard chapter to write since he made the tough decision that Polly would lose the baby. Writing about it brought back some painful feelings, but Henry had learned to use those emotions to write better, richer, truer.

He remembered sitting in the hospital caféteria while the doctor tended to Prudence after losing their second child. He wondered if he would ever be a father. If maybe it was his fault. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Henry reached way down deep inside his heart and wrote:

Henry looked away from the screen and broke off a piece of scone.

But that’s the way it should be. He didn’t want the new baby to fill the void left by the two that were with Jesus. He didn’t want to forget them—ever.

Henry went back to his story and kept typing, pleased and not so pleased with the words he was writing. “I can always re-write,” he thought.

He looked at the screen, then at the scone. He sipped his latte, and that was when he noticed a tall burly man wearing a cowboy hat walking toward him. He was with a girl, probably his daughter, Henry thought. The two sat directly across from Henry.

The cowboy hat the man wore intrigued Henry. It was a vintage, black, rancher-style Stetson made of beaver fur felt and probably had a satin lining. Henry knew this from his research and thought perhaps he was the only one in the restaurant who knew. He smiled and went back to his work, kind of wondering about the appeal of cowboy hats in the twenty-first century.

“I like her,” the girl said. “She’s a nice old lady. I don’t want her to get hurt, not like before.”

Henry looked up again. It was hard not to eavesdrop. After all, it was in the writer’s handbook that eavesdropping could be a good way to learn something about dialog, not to mention find a plot.

“I like her too, darlin’,” the cowboy said. “But she’ll be all right. Widows like her have all kinds of money. She’ll be okay.”

Henry watched as the girl sipped a soda. “I hope so, Pop. I like this one.”

Henry wondered if they might be up to no good. He paused from his work to listen more.

“I’m gonna have to call her today,” the man said. “Arrange for more money.” Then he leaned back and patted his paunch. “Costs a lot of money to keep a gold mine humming.”

Gold mine? Now Henry was really intrigued. This could be just what he needed for his book. What if Cash discovered gold? It would solve all his troubles.

Henry wrote a few notes about it in his notebook: Research gold mines. Grass Valley. Mining supplies in late nineteenth century.

He sipped his latte. Yep, a gold mine could be just what the doctor ordered. He went back to work, only stopping for a JavaScone sandwich for lunch.

Florence dropped Harriet off in front of the house.

“There’s Prudence’s car,” Harriet said. “I wonder why she’s home. I hope she’s okay. And Henry’s BMW is gone.”

A flashback of Henry’s call that Pru had suffered yet another miscarriage surfaced in her mind. She looked into Florence’s eyes. “I’d invite you in but I think I better check this out.”

Florence waved. “Sure. Call me if you need anything.”

Harriet closed the car door and hurried up the path. She pushed open the door and Humphrey trotted right to her. He let go three short woofs, a signal usually that something was wrong.

Harriet dropped her packages. “What is it, boy? Where’s Prudence?”

“Over here.” She heard Pru’s voice but didn’t see her.

“Where?”

Prudence poked her head over the back of the couch. “Here.”

“Are you okay, dear?” Harriet asked. “What’s wrong? Where’s Henry? Should I call the doctor?”

“No. I’m fine. And Henry left a note that he went to a coffee shop to work. I was just feeling a little nauseated and thought I would work at home, but I’ve got to tell you, I feel awful.”

Harriet sat next to her and patted her knee. “How far along are you again?”

“About nine weeks. I waited a long time to take the test. I wanted to be sure.”

“Then you’re right on schedule for morning sickness if you’re going to have it.”

“But it’s afternoon,” Prudence said.

“Yeah, well, it can hit anytime. It’s normal. Right as rain. Nothing to worry about. I mean you’re not … spotting or cramping, right?”

Prudence shook her head.

“Okay, you’re fine. The baby is fine. Maybe some crackers.”

Harriet looked into Prudence’s eyes. She saw something she didn’t think she had ever noticed before. It was a little sad and a little dreamy.

“Are you okay?” Harriet asked. “I mean, besides the morning sickness?”

Prudence looked away for a fraction of a second and then turned back to Harriet. “I guess I’ve been thinking about my mother lately.”

“I guess you have. It must be so hard. You miss her terribly, don’t you?” Harriet continued to pat Prudence’s knee.

Prudence squirmed a little on the comfy couch. “I don’t know if I miss her terribly or if I’m angry. But some days, like today, I sure miss having a mother around—to help and … you know, be with me.”

“You have me.”

Prudence smiled. Her eyes now glistened with tears. “I know. And I really am happy you’re here with us. Henry is also.”

“And I’m glad to be here. I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.”

Harriet touched the side of her face. “How about if I go get those crackers and some tea?”

Prudence smiled.

“Be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Now, you just rest.”

Harriet set the kettle on to boil and had just located the box of soda crackers when the back deck slider flew open. Humphrey bolted for the door and was outside lickety-split. Harriet jumped, but then she laughed when she saw Florence standing in the kitchen holding yet another pie.

“I thought you all could use something sweet,” she said. “When you didn’t call, I thought probably everything was all right over here.” Harriet decided not to be jealous, that Florence evidently had just-walk-right-in-the-door privileges here. She could tell that Florence really cared about the kids.

“Another pie? You must bake a pie every day.”

“Pretty much,” Florence said, putting the pie on the table. “Blueberry today. How’s Prudence?”

“She’s fine. Morning sickness. Her first time. She never got sick with the others.”

Florence nodded. “I hear that’s sometimes a sign. Being so sick you want to die is a good thing when you’re pregnant.”

“I had heard that also,” Harriet said. She arranged eight crackers around a small plate and set a blue teacup in the center.