The car bucked, but less like a bronco this time. We continued to move forward. There was sweat on Jeremy’s upper lip. To be honest, I was soaking under the arms. I’d never been a great passenger, even with good drivers.

“Ready for third?”

Jeremy took several short breaths. “Okay.”

“Same deal. Clutch in, foot off the gas, stick straight up to the middle. Got it. Now, clutch out, give it some gas.”

That time, he was pretty smooth. I looked ahead and saw that we were soon going to run out of road.

“Okay, we’re going to stop. So, light on the brake with your right foot. Not hard, or we’ll stall. That’s it. Now clutch in all the way, harder on the brake.”

The car came to a stop.

“There,” I said. “Now—”

The car suddenly lurched forward, tossing my head back into the headrest. We moved ahead only a couple of feet before the car died.

“What did I do?” Jeremy asked, a look of horror on his face.

I laughed. “It’s okay. You let out the clutch without putting it in neutral.”

He put his head back and closed his eyes. “Shit buckets,” he said. “That was torture. I can’t do any more.”

“Okay, that’s our lesson for today. I’ll drive us into town. You shouldn’t be on the main road anyway, not till you have your license back. But we’ll do this again tomorrow.”

He shot me a look. “Are you kidding? Do we have to?”

“Why not? Something like this takes practice. Before long, you’ll have the hang of it.” I gave him a pat on the shoulder. “You did good, Scott.”

He gave me a puzzled look. “Who’s Scott?”

I felt stunned. “Sorry,” I said. “My head was someplace else there for a second.”

When we got to the grocery store, I gave Jeremy the list.

“What’s this?”

“Grab a cart, find that stuff.”

He didn’t have to tell me he’d never shopped for groceries before. It showed on his face. But after surviving his driving lesson, maybe he felt this was a challenge he could handle.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“I want to make a phone call.”

“What if someone recognizes me?”

A good point. I went to the trunk, popped it, found him a baseball cap with a Toronto Blue Jays logo on the front. “Put that on, pull it down low.”

“Where did you get this?”

“Just wear it.”

I sent him on his way. Once he’d freed a cart from the string of them stored just outside the store, and gone inside, I got out my phone. I dug into my pocket for a business card I’d been given the day before, looked at the number, and entered it into my cell.

A woman answered. “Broadhurst Developments. How may I help you?”