“Except it only happens in the fall, when it gets drier,” Lenore had said. “Next fall we’ll get Concarnadine a humidifier.”
“ ‘But Billy Mink jeered at Reddy Fox.
“ ‘ ”Pooh! You’re no fisherman, Reddy Fox! If I couldn’t catch fish when they are chased right into my hands I’d never go fishing.“
“ ‘Reddy Fox pretended to be indignant.
“ ‘ ”I tell you what, Billy Mink,“ said he, ”if I don’t catch more fish than you do to-day I’ll bring you the plumpest chicken in Farmer Brown’s dooryard, but if I do catch more fish than you do you will give me the biggest one you catch. Do you agree?“
“ ‘Now Billy Mink is very fond of plump chicken—’ ”
“Roughage.”
“ ‘—and here was a chance to get one without danger of meeting Bowser the Hound, who guards Farmer Brown’s chickens. So Billy Mink agreed to give Reddy Fox the biggest fish he caught that day if Reddy could show more fish than he could at the end of the day. All the time he chuckled to himself, for you know Billy Mink is a famous fisherman—’ ”
“Roughage.”
“ ‘—and he knows that Reddy Fox is a poor swimmer and does not like the water.’ ”
Concarnadine Beadsman, Mrs. Stonecipher Beadsman, Jr., had been in residence at the Shaker Heights Nursing Home even before the Home had been bought by Stonecipheco Baby Food Products. Concamadine Beadsman had unfortunately gone senile while still in her fifties. She had giggled in the rain at the funeral of her husband, after the accident involving the Jell-O alternative. She had moaned in the car on the way to the main Beadsman home in Shaker Heights, to which she was moved from her own home in Chagrin Falls after the death of her husband. Then, for a few years in Shaker Heights, her days had been filled with trips to the mailbox: two hours’ walk to the box at the end of the block; the meat of the day spent peering into the black mouth of the box as the slot was held open first with one hand and then the other, the day punctuated neatly by the mailman coming at four and unlocking the bottom of the box and mail heaving out all over — an end-of the-day release with which Concamadine often unfortunately found herself in involuntary empathy — followed by a thirty-second drive back to the house with a family-member who drove low in the seat and wore sunglasses…. Then just rest, relaxation, unlimited Lawrence Welk, a plethora of mail-watching options, function-labels for things. As far as Lenore could tell — and she did try — Concamadine was really happy.
“ ‘By and by they came to another sandy beach like the first one. They could see another school of foolish young fish at play. As before, Reddy Fox remained on shore while the others swam out and drove the fish in. As before, Reddy caught half a dozen, while Billy Mink and Little Joe Otter each caught one this time. Reddy had five and then pretended to be so tickled over catching one, the smallest of the lot, that Billy Mink didn’t suspect a trick.’ ”
Mr. Bloemker sighed to himself and jiggled a shoe.
Lenore looked at him. “You know, you’re really more than welcome to go. I’m sure you must be busy.”
“Roughage.”
“I have been instructed to wait for the owners of the facility, or of course for a representative,” said Mr. Bloemker. “I can just as well wait here. I hope to have a chance for an additional chat, once this delightful piece is through.”
“My father’s coming down here?”
“It is not impossible.”
“I think he’s too busy gearing up for getting all pissed off about Kopek Spasova doing Gerber ads in Erieview tonight.”
“Nevertheless.”
“Roughage.”
“Is it Karl Rummage who’s coming? Do they maybe want to have you look up patients’ ages for them again?”
“For your information, I have been led to understand that the relevant unavailable facility-connected individuals will apparently be back with us very soon.”
“You said the exact same thing a couple days ago, and I called Dad, and nada.”
“But this time I have been led to the above understanding by persons connected with the ownership of the facility.”
“Roughage.”
“Mr. Rummage?”
“A young person in Chemistry, at Stonecipheco Baby Foods.”
“Obstat?”
“That sounds right.”
“Dad swore up and down that he’d call me the minute he had anything about Lenore. He said he’s about ready to call the police if she and everything else missing don’t turn up, or at least drop a line.”
Mr. Bloemker didn’t say anything. He scratched at his beard.
“Anyway,” Lenore said, “the point is that he sure didn’t call this morning. So I don’t believe it.”
Bloemker looked at his shoe and shrugged.
“And Rick and I supposedly have alternate Lenore-finding plans. Largely and weirdly Rick-inspired, but still.”
“As you wish. I will of course pass on any and all relevant information, as per our agreement.”
“You and Brenda are too kind. ”
“Roughage.”
“ ‘For the rest of the day the fishing was poor. Just as Old Mother West Wind started from the Green Meadows to take her children, the Merry Little Breezes, to their home behind the Purple Hills, the three little fishermen started to count up their catch. Then Reddy brought out all the fish that he had hidden. When they saw the pile of fish Reddy Fox had, Billy Mink and Little Joe Otter were so surprised that their eyes popped out and their jaws dropped.’ ”
“Roughage.” Concamadine’s jaw dropped, too. Her legs were straight out before her as she sat up in bed; her feet, in wool socks, pointed in different directions. Her shins, visible between the flaps of her robe, were spotted.
“ ‘Reddy walked over to the big pickerel and, picking it up, carried it over to his pile. ”What are you doing with my fish?“ shouted Billy Mink angrily.
“ ‘ ”It isn’t yours, it’s mine!“ retorted Reddy Fox.’ ”
“Roughage.”
“ ‘Billy Mink fairly danced up and down he was so angry. ”It’s not yours!“ he shrieked. ”It’s mine, for I caught it!“
“ ‘ ”And you agreed that your biggest fish should be mine if I caught more fish than you did. I’ve caught four times as many, so the pickerel is mine,“ retorted Reddy, winking at Little Joe Otter.’ ”
“Roughage roughage roughage roughage,” said Concarnadine Beadsman.
“What’s with this roughage stuff?” Lenore said. “How come she keeps saying ‘roughage’?”
“We have noted that as the autumn begins to cut into the heat that infallibly and understandably drove so many of the J-ward residents into themselves, the residents begin as it were to come around, to begin to rediscover the rewards of communication,” Mr. Bloemker said. “Recall that Concamadine said absolutely nothing all summer. Now we hear words for the sake of words. Explanation? A nurse probably remarked that it would be good for Concarnadine to eat her salad, for the roughage it contained, and Concarnadine fastened on the word, more than likely. Of course you know that here at the Shaker Heights facility we like to encourage regularity through the consumption of fiber, not through harsh chemicals.”
“Roughage.”
“Except she probably doesn’t have any idea what the word stands for,” Lenore said.
“Doubtless. Although Lenore did have ‘roughage’ in the J-ward lexicons. Shall I hunt around for one?”
“And why that word to get fixated on?” Lenore said. “Concarnadine never used to care what she ate. She even ate Stonecipheco stuff, a lot of the time, when it was around the house. She was a weird eater. One time I was little, and we went over for Christmas, and Gramma C. and Grandaddy had had a fight, and Gramma C. didn’t eat all day; she just stayed in the basement, throwing darts at a poster of Jayne Mansfield.”