“Everything’s ready,” I told him.

Clay opened the passenger door, but before he got in, he looked back up at the tall stone front of the courthouse.

“He still won’t go anywhere near the back patio when it rains, Mom,” Clay said, his voice tight.

“Every time he hears thunder, he runs into the pantry and hides behind the flour bin.”

I turned the key and listened to the engine hum to life.

“Then we’ll stay in the kitchen with him,” I said, pulling out into the street.