Moving fast is no problem. Once Mulcahy’s cleared his schedule and they step outside, Mulcahy whistles, and a giant leafy goat shows up to pick them up. He’s their ride to the store, and then to Mulcahy’s yard, where all manner of wildflowers and plants are growing, set in garden boxes but beyond any orderly planting. Set upon a pole in the middle is a thriving dovecote, and on the porch is a little statuette of St. Francis, holding out a dish of birdseed. A squirrel perched on it runs away when it sees them.

Connor, the goat, sets down gently. The burgeoning summer air is fresh tonight.

“We can speak on the porch or inside. It’s your choice.”