by Joyce Magnin
“You mean that? Be … because just last Christmas I thought you thought I was a doddering old woman ready for the glue factory.”
Prudence rubbed her slightly bulgy belly. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. I … I might have been thinking it, but—”
“Pru,” Henry said. “Don’t.”
Prudence turned her attention to Henry. “No, it’s all right.” She turned back to Harriet. “But after you made that trip across the country and since you’ve been here and the way you’ve become … well, become my mother in so many ways, I’ve gotten to know that you can do anything you set your mind to.”
“I can do all things through Christ,” Harriet said.
Henry clapped his hands once. “Well now, back to the crime at hand.”
The women all chuckled at once. “He’s like a kid again, playing cops and robbers,” Harriet said.
“And why not?” Henry said. “I don’t see any reason to be dismal about the whole thing.”
“There is an element of danger,” Martha said.
Harriet looked at her with wide eyes. “What danger? The FBI will be there whatever it is they want me to do, right? What could possibly happen?”
“Oh dear,” Martha said. “I suppose you’re right, but I’m still just a touch worried, and you must promise that you will be careful and not take any silly chances.”
Harriet held up the three-finger Girl Scout sign. “I promise.”
“Okay, then,” Prudence said. “We’re sending Mother in.”
“Will I get my money back?” Harriet asked.
Prudence shook her head. “Doubtful.”
“Drat. I gave that man, that … that rat fink almost ten … oh dear, I can’t even say it.”
Henry put his hand over his heart. “Don’t say it, Mom. Please don’t say it.” It was bad enough that Martha had told him about $6,500 of it.
Harriet cleared her throat. She patted Humphrey, who had not left her side. “You okay with this, boy? Mommy is working with the FBI.”
Humphrey looked at her. She noticed that his fur had turned a touch gray around his eyes. “Okay, what do I need to do?” She patted Humphrey’s head. Harriet had never felt so deflated in her life. Of all the crazy things she had done, including the cross-country trip by bus and the occasional helicopter, this took the cake. “I should have stuck with salt and pepper shakers. At least with them you know what you’re getting.”
“When this is all over,” Prudence said, “and your Grammy Suite is finished, you can get back to your collection, join a club. Or if you can’t find a local club, you can start one.”
“That’s a good idea,” Harriet said, even though her aching heart was not exactly fond of the idea just then. “Now, just tell me. What do I need to do to nab this … this—” She had a very choice word in mind, but no, she wouldn’t resort to such vulgarity.
“Agent Willers wants you to set up a meeting with Lily and get her talking about this Crickets guy,” Henry said. “They’re hoping she’ll lead them to him.”
“He’s the brains behind the operation,” Prudence said.
Martha let go a little noise, almost like a chirp. “Henry’s right. This is getting exciting.”
“Lily? I was hoping she could avoid the spotlight.”
“I suspect the FBI thinks it would be safer for you to speak with her, get her to tell you what they want to hear instead of her father,” Prudence said.
“And she trusts you,” Martha said.
“Can Martha come with me? It might seem strange to Lily if Martha isn’t with me. And I think Lily really likes Martha. They are both artists, you know.” Harriet sniffed like she was holding back tears. “That poor, sweet girl. I hope she doesn’t go to jail or juvie?”
“Juvie?” Henry said. “What the heck?”
“Juvenile delinquency jail,” Harriet said. “That’s what we called it back when I was running the streets.”
Henry choked. “You? Running the streets?”
“Sure. In Philly. I knocked over a few trash cans in my day, and even … well, let’s just say there was a certain police officer who was not very happy with me.”
“Okay, okay,” Prudence said. “That’s a story for another day. “We need to get you ready to talk to Lily. She’s the key to solving this whole mess.”
“Oh dear,” Harriet said. “I feel like a … a …”
“Superhero?” Martha said.
“Not exactly a superhero. But a crime fighter, certainly. So should I just call Lily in the morning and arrange something?”
“Yep,” Prudence said. “That’s all you need to do. Set up a meeting and get her talking. Casually bring up Mr. Crickets—”
Henry laughed.
“Casually bring up Mr. Crickets,” Prudence repeated with a sigh, “and see if you can get her to tell you where he lives or stays or works. Something for the FBI to go on.”
“That should be easy, Mom,” Henry said. “Just pretend you’re giving me the third degree about my whereabouts when I broke curfew on a Saturday night.”
Harriet waved her hand. “Oh that, well, you were easy. I could get you to spill your guts so easily.”
“I know,” Henry said. “There was no trouble getting this canary to sing.”
“I hope I’m not so nervous that I blow it,” Harriet said.
“You won’t, Mom. Now, how about if I go get dinner ready. I made strawberry shortcake—just for you.”
“Strawberry shortcake,” Martha said. “Yum.”
Harriet heaved a huge sigh, a sigh that seemed to fill the entire room. She knew her loved ones were all trying to make the situation appear easy, take a casual, almost comical view of things. But she wasn’t stupid … well, except for falling for the scam in the first place. She knew she had disappointed them, that there was danger in what she was about to do, and that she had wasted a tremendous amount of money. “I think I’d like to take Humphrey for a walk, if you wouldn’t mind,” she said. She wanted a few minutes alone. And she had someone to see.
“I’ll come with you,” Martha said.
“No, it’s okay. I’d rather go alone.”
“Okay,” Martha said. “But … be careful.”
“I’m fine,” Harriet said. “Humphrey will protect me from all the nasty con artists out there. Won’t you, boy?”
“You might want to take a sweater,” Prudence said. “It’s getting chilly.”
“I will,” Harriet said. “Thank you. And I’ll call Lily first thing in the morning. I’ll think of some reason for her to meet us.”
Harriet took a blue cardigan sweater from the coatrack and put it on—inside out.
“What will happen to Lily?” Martha asked. “She’s only seventeen. Her mother is dead as far as we know, but who knows what’s the truth anymore?”
“That poor, sweet child,” Harriet said, noticing her mistake. “I should have known something was wrong, terribly wrong when I saw the color of her hair.”
“Hopefully,” Prudence said, “she’ll turn eighteen before it hits the fan. And if she isn’t found culpable in some way, she’ll be exonerated. But if not, she’ll become a ward of the state unless her mother is alive and can be found or another suitable relative can be located.”
Harriet thought this was all starting to sound much more complicated than she thought it would ever become. “Lily told me she won’t be eighteen until next June. I’ll be back in just a little while.” All she had wanted was a few itsy bitsy gold nuggets. And now she had an entire federal case on her hands.
Chapter Twenty-Four
HARRIET WALKED IN THE DIRECTION OF FLORENCE’S house. “I’ve got a bone to pick with her.” Humphrey stayed so close to her she could feel him against her leg. “It’s all right,” she said. “But … I wish Max was here. He’d know what to do.” She sighed. “If Max was here, this would never have happened.” She looked up to the heavens. “Oh, Max, you big jerk. Why did you have to die so soon?”
Humphr
ey stopped once to sniff around a lilac bush. But he didn’t linger as usual. He found his spot right next to Harriet again. He didn’t want to leave her side.
She walked on, asking God to give her some peace about the whole thing, that peace that is supposed to pass all understanding. But she wasn’t feeling it. Maybe when it was over. The air was nice, a little chilly but the kind of evening that made it easy to think. Harriet could smell roses on the breeze. She saw lights on at Florence’s house.
“Maybe we should stop and … say hi, huh, Humphrey. What do you think?”
Humphrey said, “Woof.”
“You’re right. Maybe she’s had some experience with this sort of thing. She seems to know an awful lot about gold mining and Grass Valley. But I can’t believe she told Henry about my gold mine.”
Harriet pushed open the gate at Florence’s house. She rung the bell and waited but only for a few seconds before Florence opened the door. She was wearing a periwinkle blue bathrobe and yellow slippers that looked like they had seen better days.
“I’m sorry,” Harriet said. “Were you going to bed?”
“Oh no, no, come in. I was just comfortable. Reading.”
“Only if you’re sure I’m not interrupting anything,” Harriet said. She followed Florence to the living room.
“Is everything all right?” Florence said. “It’s not Prudence, is it?”
“Prudence is fine. Everything, including morning sickness, right on schedule.”
“That’s good. Can I get you anything—tea, pie?”
“Oh no, thank you, Henry is making dinner and strawberry shortcake. I’ll need to get back soon. I told them I was just taking Henry for a walk.”
Florence smiled. “Henry’s a sweet boy.”
“Yeah, he really is,” Harriet said. “Just like his dad.”
“Are you missing him?” Florence invited Harriet to sit.
“Yes. Today and every day, but … but well, yes, more so today.”
Florence patted Harriet’s arm. “I think you have something heavy on your mind. Do you want to tell me? I can listen, and I promise I won’t tell a soul. Not a living soul.”
Florence tightened her robe belt and sat down on the couch. Harriet settled in a big, over-stuffed chair that threatened to swallow her, so she leaned forward just a bit.
“Really?” Harriet said with a twist of sarcasm that swirled around the room. “Really? You told on me.”
“About the gold mine? I most certainly did not. I might be a lot of things but I have never betrayed a confidence. Well, not recently. But I never told anyone,” Florence said.
She sounded sincere. “Well, then I don’t know who, but someone told Henry and Pru about the mine.” Martha was the only other person. No. She would never do that. Harriet shook her head.
“So is there a problem?” Florence asked.
“There sure is.”
“Okay, well look, you go to the authorities, and they’ll tell you what to do before it gets out of hand.”
“Already done. The FBI is in on it. Oh, Florence, I feel so silly.”
“The FBI? Really? So you got scammed.”
“Fooled like it was April Fools’ Day. I’m a chump.”
“Oh for goodness sake, Harriet. You are not a chump. You got fooled by a con artist. These guys are experts.”
“But it was his daughter, Lily, who started the whole thing.”
Florence slapped her knee. “Oh, he is a pro. Trains his kid to spot a mark. Not exactly a great role model.”
“And I was the mark.”
“You sure were. She saw you sitting all alone at the café, and she wandered over and struck up a conversation.”
“Yeah, pretty much.” Harriet’s heart raced like a sports car. “Does that mean she’s … what did Prudence say? Culpable?”
Florence pursed her lips. She patted Humphrey’s head. “Not sure. If she’s a minor, they’ll go easy on her. I hope.”
“She is. She is a minor. Seventeen.”
“That’s the best news.”
Harriet rubbed Humphrey’s ears. “Even Humphrey is upset. He won’t leave my side.”
“So what will you do now?” Florence asked.
“The FBI wants me to help them.”
“The FBI? This must be a big operation you got yourself messed up in.”
“That’s the consensus.” Harriet looked at Florence’s kind face. “I’m so embarrassed. And to think that I did this not only with the kids but right in front of my best friend. I feel awful.” She patted Humphrey’s head. “Just awful. I always try to look on the sunny side of life but this … this is too much.”
Florence thought a moment. “Maybe you can look at it this way. When they nab the guys, they’ll go to jail for a while and you will be stopping them from hurting another innocent person. Not to mention leading Lily into a life of crime.”
“What will happen to her, do you think?”
“I think she will have to be put in state care until she turns eighteen, assuming there’s no other relative.”
“No,” Harriet said. “Her mother died.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Harriet sat for another moment, quiet. “This is terrible. That poor child.”
Dinner that evening was, as usual, amazing, even if the mood was sad. Henry tried to keep a lively conversation going. He talked about his new book. The babies. But it was obvious that everyone was worried.
“Okay,” Harriet said. “I got us into this. I’ll get us out. And I don’t want to see any more long faces. I’ll do what the FBI tells me.”
“That’s very wise,” Prudence said. “Just follow the FBI instructions and everything will work out fine.”
Harriet didn’t say a word. She just kind of glanced Martha’s way.
“Please, Mother. Let the police and the FBI handle this.”
“Sure, sure,” Harriet said.
Henry brought the strawberry shortcake to the table. It was incredible. Layers of whipped cream and strawberries and shortcake.
“Perfect,” Martha said. “You really should become a chef. This is as good or even better than anything I’ve ever had anywhere.”
Harriet felt so proud of Henry. “He is spectacular,” she said. “Only I just don’t know where he gets it. Lord knows I was never much of a cook. Strictly meat and potatoes.”
“Well,” Henry said, “Dad was not what you would call an adventurous eater.”
“That’s true, son. When he came home from work, all he wanted was a burger or steak, a potato of some sort, and a green veggie. That was it—a brown pile, a white pile, and a green pile.”
“Well, that and ice cream. Remember, Mom?”
Henry patted Prudence’s hand. She was busy eating cake. “My father never had less than three gallons of ice cream in the freezer all year long.”
Perhaps it was the whipped cream and strawberries, but the mood had lifted. Harriet felt a little better, surrounded by her family and her friend and, of course, Humphrey, who got to sample quite a bit of whipped cream.
“So how are you feeling, Prudence?” Martha asked. “I don’t think we have really had an opportunity to talk about it. Twins. I can’t imagine what that would be like.”
“It is wonderful,” Prudence said. “God has blessed us. Sometimes I still can’t believe it.” She took another bite of cake. “And I’m feeling okay. I get tired and, of course, the physical symptoms are annoying, but the blessing absolutely outweighs the other.”
“Two,” Henry said. “Two of everything.”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Martha said. “Two cribs, two strollers, two two-o’clock feedings … Goodness gracious, I’m glad you have Harriet here. She’ll be a big help.”
Martha insisted that she and Harriet do the dishes while Henry and Prudence put their feet up in the living room.
“And we’ll bring you a nice cup of tea in just a bit,” Martha said.
“And maybe another slice of that shortcake?” Hen
ry asked.
“Sure, sure,” Harriet said. “Now you two get along. Let Martha and me do this.”
The second they were out of earshot Harriet said, “You fink.”
“Look,” Martha said. “I had to tell. I couldn’t stand for you to get hurt. And as it turned out …”
“Yes, but I asked you not to tell him.” Harriet filled the teakettle to put it on the stove. “I’m so hurt.”
“I’m sorry,” Martha said. “But, I don’t know, I guess with all this stuff with Wyatt I have a shorter fuse for this stuff. Wrong is wrong.”
“I guess, but I’m still angry,” she said as she dropped spoons into the dishwasher basket.
“Please forgive me,” Martha said. She wiped her fingers on a towel.
“Okay, but … now, listen … we have to do something. We have to do something before the FBI.”
Martha rinsed a plate and placed it in the dishwasher. “What? You’re crazy, Harriet, but I guess I should have known you’d do something.”
“We have to do something for Lily. We can’t let them arrest her and make her a ward of the state or something.”
“But what can we do?”
Harriet put two leftover pork chops into a Tupperware container and snapped it closed. “I … I don’t know for sure but—”
“You can’t be suggesting we warn them so they can get away. Or are you?”
Harriet wiped the kitchen table. “No, no, I guess that wouldn’t be right, but there must be something we can do to keep Lily from getting into trouble and being sent to live God knows where with God knows who. It could be awful. They could send her to … to some abuser or crack house.”
Martha closed the Maytag dishwasher door after putting in the soap and pushed the on button. In an instant the machine roared to life. “You know what? I’m surprised at you.”
“At me?” Harriet asked. “Why? What did I do?”
“I’m surprised because you are usually so positive about everything. Every cloud has a silver lining—except now, all you can think is the worst. What if Lily is placed somewhere fabulous? A place that’s really good for her? With people who care.”
