“Not technically the ocean,” I said, “but definitely beautiful. The Atlantic’s on the other side of the Cape.” I made my arm into an L, like I was trying to show off my muscles. “If this is the Cape,” I said, and pointed to where my arm met my shoulder, “we’re about here. All this is the bay, and out here is the ocean.”

He nodded. He pointed into the distance, slightly to the right. “That looks like land there.”

“Yeah. Way, way up there is Provincetown. You can almost see it.”

We looked up and down the beach at the neighboring houses. “Doesn’t look like anybody is up,” I said. “I don’t think we have to worry about being spotted around here.”

He nodded.

“Have a look around inside,” I said. “You get first pick of bedroom. Then I think we should go into town and get a few groceries. We don’t need to go out for all our meals. There’s a pretty good kitchen.”

“Okay.”

He went inside to check the place out while I went back to the car to bring in our stuff. I made up a list of things we needed at the store, calling out to Jeremy as I wrote.

“What do you want to make for dinner?”

“Huh?” he shouted from the upper floor.

“We’ll take turns making meals. I’ll do tonight. You do tomorrow.”

Silence. Then, “I could do hot dogs.”

“Something better than that.”

Another brief silence. “I guess spaghetti?”

“Great. Tomato sauce?”

“Yeah. And meatballs?”

“Got it.”

I checked the cupboards to see if there were any basics left behind by previous guests. We were good for salt and pepper and sugar, and there was even some coffee for the coffee maker. I now knew we could survive anything.

Jeremy came down the spiral metal staircase to find me sitting at the kitchen table. “Can I have the upstairs bedroom?”

The first-floor bedrooms, and the kitchen, only offered a view of the grass between the house and the beach. From upstairs, you could see the bay.

“Sure,” I said.

“Do you have cookies on the list?”

“No. You want some?”

“Oreos.”

“Done.”

I finished the list, folded it and tucked it into the front pocket of my jeans. “Let’s head into town.”

“Okay.”

We got in the Honda and I backed us onto North Shore Boulevard. Then I put the car in neutral and applied the parking brake.

“I’ve got an idea,” I said.

“What?”

“Why don’t you drive? I’ve been driving all day.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. Take the wheel.”

“I can’t,” he protested.

“Why not?”

“They took away my license for, like, forever.” He glanced down between the seats. “Anyway, I can’t drive a stick.”