We whip into a garage, and I clutch the door with one hand and Matilda with the other. We’re plunged into near-dark until my eyes adjust.
“What are we doing?” I ask.
The side of Court’s face that I can see is grim. “Apparently, we’re going to sneak a goat up the stairs.”
“This sounds fun!”
“A real lark.” His tone is ominous, all joking gone. This is the Court I know.
“What happens if you get caught?”
“They’ll probably throw me out.”
“They can do that?”
“For a goat? Maybe. A dog, they’d fine me. But livestock is another matter entirely.”
“Matilda isn’t livestock!”
He grunts at that. We make a tight turn as we go higher in the garage.
We keep going up. The cars are shiny and new. They look unused. And do they all leave them with Jerry? I can’t imagine handing over the keys to my car. What if you wanted to take off in the middle of the night? Would Jerry be there waiting?
But I don’t ask. I hold on to Matilda as we make our way up.
We must be near the top. The ramp continues into open sky, but Court doesn’t go up there. He parks the SUV near a door in the corner.
“I should probably bring the goat up the stairs. You can take the elevator.”
That’ll never work. “Matilda won’t go with you.”
“Why not?”
How to put this kindly? “She likes to butt you with her head.”
“Right. But it’s a lot of stairs. Ten floors, easily.”
“Really? We drove forever.”
“And the garage is much shorter than the tower.”
Oh. I sit up tall. “I can do it. We can go slow.”
“I’d feel better if you took the elevator.” He pulls out his wallet and passes me a plastic card. “This is the key card for it.”
I take it, but I’m skeptical. “She won’t do it.”
“I can handle a goat.”
I’m not sure which one of them is more stubborn. “All right,” I say. “Give it a go.”
I open my door and tug Matilda out of the car. The moment her hooves are on solid ground, she poops everywhere. “Sorry,” I tell Court.
“Better here than the car. We’ll take care of it later.”
“It’s great for plants. Do you have any plants?”
“We’re not putting goat poop in my plants.”