Mr. X. Peter Straub
intensive care unit? I’ve never been here before.’
‘Third floor,’ I said. ‘Follow me.’
The woman behind the counter counted out my change and slid the paperbacks and the candy into a bag. I moved aside, and the boy’s mother came up to the counter. ‘How much are the teddy bears?’
The woman peered at the child. In high hilarity, the child peered back. ‘Our ICU patients can’t receive gifts or flowers.’
‘It’s for him.’ She groped into her bag. ‘A reward for behaving himself. Or maybe a bribe, I don’t know. Our otherwise completely adorable baby-sitter abandoned us this afternoon.’
The boy pointed at me and said, ‘You’re – not – not – not – Bill!’
‘I am too,’ I said.
The boy clapped the sneaker and the teddy bear to his chest and roared with laughter. Ah, appreciation. I tried to remember his name but could not. He fixed his eyes on mine and said, ‘Bill rides a lawn mower!’
‘No, you ride a lawn mower,’ I said, contradiction being the first principle of four-year-old humor. We left the shop and turned toward the elevators.
‘Your new best friend is my son Cobbie, and I’m Laurie Hatch,’ she said. ‘My cleaning woman had an operation yesterday, and I wanted to say hello. You’re seeing someone in intensive care, too?’
‘My mother.’ We came to the rank of closed doors, and I pushed the button. ‘Ned Dunstan. Hello.’
‘Hello, Ned Dunstan,’ she said with a feathery brush of irony, and then looked at me more thoughtfully, almost impersonally. ‘I’ve heard that name before. Do you live here in town?’
‘No, I’m from New York.’ I looked up at the illuminated numbers above the doors.
‘I hope your mother is doing all right.’
Cobbie glanced back and forth between us.
‘She had a stroke,’ I said. For a moment both of us regarded the yellow glow of the UP button. ‘Your cleaning woman must be Mrs Loome.’
She gave me an astonished smile. ‘Do you know her?’
‘No, but my aunts do,’ I said.
People had been trickling in from the lobby as we talked. Everybody watched the number above the elevator on the left change from 3 to 2. When it flashed to 1, the crowd pushed to the left. The doors opened on a dense, compressed mob, which began pouring out as the waiting crowd pushed forward. Laurie Hatch moved back, pulling the stroller with her.
Cobbie said, ‘What’s your name?’
‘Ned.’ I watched the light above the elevator on our right flash 2 and change to 1.
The doors of the laden car closed. A second or two later, the others opened to release a cart pushed by a workman. He stared at Laurie, glanced at Cobbie, and gave me a meaningful smirk as I followed them in. I said, ‘Don’t jump to conclusions.’
‘I ain’t concluded, and so far I ain’t jumped,’ he said. We both laughed.
Cobbie brandished the teddy bear. ‘His name is Ned. He’s a bear named Ned.’
‘Oh, Cobbie.’ Laurie knelt down to wriggle the sneaker onto his foot.
Cobbie leaned over the strap of the stroller and in his deepest voice intoned, ‘I ain’t concluded, and so faw I ain’t jumped.’
The car came to a stop, and the doors slid open. Embarrassed, Laurie glanced at me. ‘I don’t know where he gets it from.’ She pushed the stroller into the corridor and turned in the wrong direction. I gestured toward the ICU. ‘He just picks things up and repeats them.’
I looked down at Cobbie. He fixed me with an expression of comically adult gravity and growled, ‘And SOO FAW, I ain’t JUMPED.’
‘He must be part tape recorder,’ Laurie said.
‘He has great ears,’ I replied, still grinning. ‘If he doesn’t make it as a comedian, he could always be a musician.’
‘His father would have a heart attack.’ She startled me with a look so charged with resentment it felt like the touch of a branding iron. ‘We’re separated.’
Both of us looked down. Cobbie was holding the teddy bear’s ear to his mouth and whispering that so far he hadn’t jumped. ‘He’d even hate my bringing Cobbie to St Ann’s.’
‘Doesn’t your husband approve of St Ann’s?’
‘Stewart’s on the board at Lawndale. He thinks you can contract a virus just by looking at this place.’
‘He must know Grenville Milton,’ I said.
She stopped moving and looked at me in dubious surprise. ‘Don’t tell me you know Grennie Milton!’ Chagrin instantly softened her face. ‘There’s no reason you shouldn’t, except that he never goes anywhere except the University Club and Le Madrigal.’
‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘His wife used to be a friend of my mother’s. About five minutes ago, I called to tell her what was going on, and she mentioned that her husband was on the Lawndale board.’
‘Rachel Milton and your mother were friends? Am I likely to run into her in the next five minutes?’
‘You’re in the clear,’ I said.
‘Good. Anyhow, there’s the ICU, dead ahead.’
I swung open one of the big doors to let her pass through. Zwick glanced up from her post and prepared for battle. Beneath the window, a notice I had previously overlooked told me why. ‘Uh-oh,’ I said. ‘Slight change of plans.’ I pointed to the notice. CHILDREN ARE NOT PERMITTED ENTRY.
‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘Darn it. They don’t let kids in there, Cobbie. You’ll have to wait for me. I won’t be more than a couple of minutes, I promise.’
He looked up at her with the beginnings of alarm.
‘I can put you in front of the window, and you’ll be able to see me the whole time.’
‘I’ll stay with Cobbie,’ I said. ‘It’s no problem.’
‘I can’t let you do that.’
‘I want to stay with Ned and Ned,’ Cobbie announced. ‘With this Ned and with that Ned.’
‘First you’re my guide, then you put up with my complaints, and now you’re my baby-sitter.’
Aunt Nettie surged out and came to a halt with her hand still on the door. ‘Did I pick a bad time to go to the washroom?’
‘Don’t be silly, Aunt Nettie. This is Mrs Hatch. She’s visiting Mrs Loome. We met downstairs, and I offered to stay with her son while she goes in. Laurie, my aunt, Mrs Rutledge.’ I could not keep from grinning at the absurdity of having to explain myself.
‘Hello, Mrs Rutledge.’ Laurie contained her sense of the ridiculous better than I. ‘If your nephew hadn’t led me up here, I would never have found the way.’
Cobbie chose this moment to come out with ‘I ain’t concluded, and SOO faw I ain’t JUMPED!’ He sounded a little like Kingfish on the old Amos ‘n’ Andy programs.
Laurie Hatch moaned something that might have been ‘Oh, Cobbie.’ Nettie transferred her indignation to the boy and almost immediately relented. ‘Out of the mouths of babes. Honey, what’s your name?’
‘COBDEN CARPENTER HATCH!’ Cobbie shouted. He fell back into the stroller, giggling.
‘That’s a mighty important name.’ She turned magisterially to Laurie. ‘I’m sure Mrs Loome will appreciate your visit.’
Smiling