Harriet Beamer Strikes Gold Read Online Free PDF Page B

barked. “You are so right. I am a good son—even if I don’t quite measure up.”
    He rolled up the plans, secured them with a rubber band, and set them next to his desk.
    “We’ll tell her tonight, over dinner.” He unwrapped a snack cake. There was something about the super sweet goodness that aided his writing. Little Debbie was his muse. Humphrey still looked at him with a look that only a dog could give.
    “Sorry, old man, you can’t have any. Chocolate is not good for dogs.”
    Humphrey lay at his feet.
    Henry read through the words he had written that morning. For the most part he was pleased but was unsure of his next move. He had already decided that the cowboys needed to stay alive.
    “What do you think, Humphrey? I have three cowboys stuck in a cave. Do we blast them out?”
    Humphrey whimpered and closed his eyes.
    “Yeah, that’s the ticket. Dynamite.”
    It was nearly six-thirty when Harriet roused from her sleep.
    “Oh goodness,” she said out loud. “Visiting a gold mine was hard work. I slept like a rock.” She looked around the room. Even though she had been sleeping there for three months, sometimes, especially if she slept during the day, she had to reorient herself and remember she was not in Bryn Mawr anymore.
    “Humphrey,” she called. But he didn’t come. “Now, where did that silly pooch get off to, I wonder?” She looked around. “Should have named him Houdini.”
    She yawned and slipped off the bed, visited the bathroom, and then headed toward the kitchen to prepare dinner. Her stomach growled. But first she stopped at the den, where she found Humphrey fast asleep at Henry’s feet and Henry typing fast on his keyboard. Harriet coughed.
    “Mom,” Henry said, looking up. “How was your nap?”
    “Fine,” Harriet said. “How’s it coming? Did you get the boys out of the cave?”
    “Yep, we blasted them out with dynamite.”
    “Ah, that’s nice, dear. You always did like explosions.”
    Henry scratched his head on that one a second but then quickly remembered the time he tossed the firecracker into the trash can. And about the time he made the vinegar, baking soda, and chocolate syrup volcano that exploded all over the kitchen. He had quite a mess to clean up.
    While Henry went back to his keyboard, Harriet glanced around the den. It was a nice room at the back of the house with cream-colored carpet and lots of bookcases jam-packed with books and little tchotchkes Henry had collected through the years. The walls had pictures of him and Prudence, one of Humphrey, and several framed writing awards. Henry sat at a black desk strewn with notebooks and books and pens. The desk probably came from IKEA, not that there was anything wrong with it. It was just that Harriet thought Henry deserved real wood.
    “I was just going in to start dinner. I thought spaghetti and meatballs sounded good.”
    “Fine,” Henry said, not looking at her and not taking his fingers from the keyboard.
    Harriet waited another few seconds, then spotted the roll of blueprints. “What’s that?”
    “What’s what?” Henry said, still not looking.
    “Standing next to your desk. It looks like a set of blueprints.”
    Henry grabbed the papers and placed them on top of a high bookcase. “No, no, Mom. They’re just … storyboards for the novel. You know, mapping out the plot.”
    Harriet smiled. “Uh huh. I’m going to make dinner. Did Prudence say what time she’d be home?”
    “A little later than usual, so probably by seven, seven-thirty.”
    “Okay. That’s gives me plenty of time. I’ve had a hankeringfor spaghetti and meatballs.” She repeated herself because she was fairly certain Henry had not heard her the first time.
    “Are you sure? I can make dinner if you want.”
    Harriet waved the thought away. “No. I want to, really.”
    “Okay, Mom. Spaghetti and meatballs it is.”
    Humphrey opened his eyes and said, “Woof.”
    “I knew that would get you,” Harriet said. “He