Read Online Harriet Beamer Strikes Gold by Joyce Magnin - Free Book Online
Authors: Joyce Magnin
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money, and I’m just here to re-distribute it, you know? And this is a good cause.”
“You mean it, Mother? You’ll help us out?”
Henry looked up. It was Prudence, dressed and ready for work. “You mean it?” she said again. “We just thought we’d ask, what with the baby coming”—she touched her belly—“or do you want time to think about it?”
Harriet took a deep breath as Humphrey ambled next to her. “No, no. What’s there to think about? It’s only money, and you know what they say: I can’t take it with me. I’ll go down to the bank today. Just tell me what to transfer to your account and it will be done. I’d rather you guys write the checks.”
“Oh, Mother,” Prudence said, “thank you.”
It looked to Henry like a moment when Prudence might want to hug Harriet, but Prudence stepped away. “I’ll just grab breakfast at the office,” she said.
Henry stood. “Are you feeling okay this morning? No morning sickness?”
“No. And I didn’t have any morning sickness before, so …”
He kissed Prudence. “Have a nice day. I love you.”
“I love you too,” she said.
Then Henry spoke to Prudence’s belly. “I love you too.” Only he said it in a baby voice.
Harriet waited until she heard Prudence pull the SUV out of the driveway to ask Henry about something that had been on her mind but she never thought the time was right to ask.
“Tell me about Prudence’s mother. She never talks about her.”
“Oh gee, Mom, do we need to do this now? You know her mother ran off when Pru was a teenager, right?”
“Yes, but, well, has she ever spoken to her? I mean, since?”
“She tried a few times, but her mother never returns her calls or letters.”
“That’s sad. Do you think now, with the baby, she might try again? If there is ever a time when a woman needs her mother it’s when she’s pregnant.”
Henry shrugged and sipped his coffee. “I wouldn’t know, but if she wants to try to get in touch I guess it will be all right. But I don’t want to pressure her about it. And you shouldn’t either.”
“Oh, I won’t, dear. It makes me heartsick, though.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Henry sat back down at the table. “So what are your plans today, Mom? Besides the bank.”
Harriet, who had just poured another cup of coffee despite Henry’s warnings about too much caffeine, told him. “Oh, no plans, dear—except, well, I might hang around in town. Do a little shopping. Maybe poke around for some curtains for my new Grammy Suite.”
“Shouldn’t you wait until after it’s built before you buy anything? Get the right size?”
Harriet clicked her tongue. “
I
know how to read a blueprint, dear. I can get the window dimensions. And besides, I just want to do some looking.”
Henry shook his head. She would never stop rubbing it in.
“Okay, but don’t forget to call Martha. And don’t take any wooden nickels. Whatever that means.”
Harriet patted his cheek. “That’s what your daddy always said.”
Chapter Seven
H ARRIET WATCHED H ENRY MAKE HIS WAY INTO THE DEN to write. She was proud of her son, but every so often that niggling frustration about the way he sold his father’s business and chose a totally strange occupation reared its ugly head. She knew it was ugly. She wanted to make peace with his decision. But in her heart of hearts she thought that if Henry had stayed with the family business it would have somehow kept Max alive, like a legacy.
Harriet suddenly remembered Martha went to her Bible study on Thursday mornings, so she resolved to call her later in the day when she got back from shopping. She loaded the dishwasher and then took Humphrey for his walk. She made a point to pass the Hannigans’ house to get a better look at the new addition.
The house was a typical California split-level—nothing too spectacular except the addition. It was gorgeous, even to Harriet who tended to enjoy high standards when it came to things like house additions
“You mean it, Mother? You’ll help us out?”
Henry looked up. It was Prudence, dressed and ready for work. “You mean it?” she said again. “We just thought we’d ask, what with the baby coming”—she touched her belly—“or do you want time to think about it?”
Harriet took a deep breath as Humphrey ambled next to her. “No, no. What’s there to think about? It’s only money, and you know what they say: I can’t take it with me. I’ll go down to the bank today. Just tell me what to transfer to your account and it will be done. I’d rather you guys write the checks.”
“Oh, Mother,” Prudence said, “thank you.”
It looked to Henry like a moment when Prudence might want to hug Harriet, but Prudence stepped away. “I’ll just grab breakfast at the office,” she said.
Henry stood. “Are you feeling okay this morning? No morning sickness?”
“No. And I didn’t have any morning sickness before, so …”
He kissed Prudence. “Have a nice day. I love you.”
“I love you too,” she said.
Then Henry spoke to Prudence’s belly. “I love you too.” Only he said it in a baby voice.
Harriet waited until she heard Prudence pull the SUV out of the driveway to ask Henry about something that had been on her mind but she never thought the time was right to ask.
“Tell me about Prudence’s mother. She never talks about her.”
“Oh gee, Mom, do we need to do this now? You know her mother ran off when Pru was a teenager, right?”
“Yes, but, well, has she ever spoken to her? I mean, since?”
“She tried a few times, but her mother never returns her calls or letters.”
“That’s sad. Do you think now, with the baby, she might try again? If there is ever a time when a woman needs her mother it’s when she’s pregnant.”
Henry shrugged and sipped his coffee. “I wouldn’t know, but if she wants to try to get in touch I guess it will be all right. But I don’t want to pressure her about it. And you shouldn’t either.”
“Oh, I won’t, dear. It makes me heartsick, though.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Henry sat back down at the table. “So what are your plans today, Mom? Besides the bank.”
Harriet, who had just poured another cup of coffee despite Henry’s warnings about too much caffeine, told him. “Oh, no plans, dear—except, well, I might hang around in town. Do a little shopping. Maybe poke around for some curtains for my new Grammy Suite.”
“Shouldn’t you wait until after it’s built before you buy anything? Get the right size?”
Harriet clicked her tongue. “
I
know how to read a blueprint, dear. I can get the window dimensions. And besides, I just want to do some looking.”
Henry shook his head. She would never stop rubbing it in.
“Okay, but don’t forget to call Martha. And don’t take any wooden nickels. Whatever that means.”
Harriet patted his cheek. “That’s what your daddy always said.”
Chapter Seven
H ARRIET WATCHED H ENRY MAKE HIS WAY INTO THE DEN to write. She was proud of her son, but every so often that niggling frustration about the way he sold his father’s business and chose a totally strange occupation reared its ugly head. She knew it was ugly. She wanted to make peace with his decision. But in her heart of hearts she thought that if Henry had stayed with the family business it would have somehow kept Max alive, like a legacy.
Harriet suddenly remembered Martha went to her Bible study on Thursday mornings, so she resolved to call her later in the day when she got back from shopping. She loaded the dishwasher and then took Humphrey for his walk. She made a point to pass the Hannigans’ house to get a better look at the new addition.
The house was a typical California split-level—nothing too spectacular except the addition. It was gorgeous, even to Harriet who tended to enjoy high standards when it came to things like house additions
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