Free Pewter Angels by Henry K. Ripplinger

cottage.”
    “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. Well, don’t you two do anything I wouldn’t do,” he said with an exaggerated wink. Then, giving Henry a sharp poke on the shoulder, he said, “Don’t work too hard, Mr. Businessman.”
    Henry was relieved to see Timmy go. As much as he liked Timmy, there were times, like now, when he wanted to haul off and give him a smack. Henry turned to Jenny. She was smiling at him. “So, what are you doing after supper?” she asked.
    Henry thought for a second. “I was hoping we could go for a walk. I want to tell you what happened today.”
    “I was hoping we could go for a walk, too. I’ll wait for you on my front step after we’ve finished eating.”
    Henry smiled, feeling good again, free to concentrate on Jenny and on how much he liked her. “See you soon.” Henry turned his bike around and headed home.
    As he opened the door, he saw his dad duck into the kitchen. It looked like one of those rare nights when his dad didn’t have to work overtime at the plant and they could have a family supper together.
    Without waiting for his mom to ask him how his day had gone, he said, “Boy, did I have a good day at the grocery store!”
    His mom and dad stopped eating and looked up at him. “Oh?” said his dad.
    “Well, what happened?” his mom probed.
    Henry told them about the storage room and the basement, his efforts to clean the downstairs and reorganize the shelves, and what Mr. Engelmann had said about never having seen the storage room look so neat and organized. Henry beamed at his parents, who beamed back at him.
    “Well, you do have a knack for organizing and making things look nice,” his mom said.
    “You did a good thing today, son,” his dad added.
    Henry told his dad about the basement, how poorly lit it was and how he had tripped once or twice on the uneven floor. “I don’t know how on earth Mrs. Engelmann can even find her way down there to wash clothes. They should have at least two more lights. And, Dad, the doors to the backyard where they sometimes bring down boxes are open and loose. The air just pours through all the cracks, and in the wintertime it must be freezing cold. Do you think you might have time to have a look at it?” Before his dad could answer, Henry excitedly continued, “I also noticed a couple of mice down there when I was moving boxes. Can I take the two mousetraps in the garage?”
    His mom and dad exchanged glances before his dad turned to him. “Sure, and maybe mention to Mr. Engelmann that I have a door in the garage and some insulation that I don’t need anymore. If he’s interested, I can bring them over Saturday morning when I’m off work.”
    “That’s nice, Bill,” Henry’s mom said, putting her hand on his dad’s shoulder.
    “He’s a proud man, Henry, and may consider this to be charity. He may not accept our offering, so be careful how you put it to him. Make it sound as if he is doing us a favour taking these things off our hands.”
    Henry nodded. “I think you’re right, Dad, and thanks for doing this.” His dad smiled back, then turned to his mom. “By the way, Mary, Jim told me … “
    His father’s words drifted away as Henry visualized where the door could go in Mr. Engelmann’s basement and where the insulation would be best put to use. Still engrossed in his fix-it-up thoughts, Henry blurted out, “Where can I get some paint?”
    His mom and dad glanced at him, somewhat startled and a little annoyed.
    “What are you talking about, Henry?” his mom asked. “What paint?”
    “Mr. Engelmann’s basement needs to be painted and so does his storeroom. In fact, the whole store could use a coat. Everything’s so old and dirty.”
    “Well, there’s some paint downstairs that we won’t be needing anymore,” Bill replied. “And one of the fellows at work told me he’d bought brand new paint that had been mixed wrong for next to nothing at the paint store. You might want to phone Northern Paint