"Holy moly!" Sinjin said, the blinking of his green eyes magnified behind the thick lenses. "Martin Savage?"

"I sure am. Are you a fan?"

The grocer scowled in confusion. Then he grabbed the button on his apron. "It's Sinjin, man! Dave St. John. We went to kindergarten together. Wow!"

Encounters like this always made him feel awkward. He was rarely on the other end, the one remembering someone who didn't know him from Adam. It was always someone who remembered him, and the fact that he was semi-famous only made it worse, particularly if he made the mistake of thinking they might be a reader of his books.

He didn't remember Sinjin. He couldn't remember much about his life in Barrows Bay at all, let alone specific children he'd known in kindergarten. He did have a vague memory of running through the streets with two children, one a freckled girl with a shock of red hair and the other a chubby boy with black hair and glasses—

"Sinjin," Martin said, nodding. "Sure. We went to kindergarten together."

A huge smile spread across the big man's face. He clapped Martin on the shoulder. "Those were the days, huh? Wow," he said again. "So what's new and exciting? What brings you back to the Bay?"

Behind the mountain of a man, Sheila held up a block of shortening for Martin's approval. He nodded. "Hey, uh..." he started to say.

"Sinjin."

"Sinjin, it really is great to see you. I have to take off, but we should catch up some time—"

The grocer brimmed with excitement. "Yeah? Man, I'd love to have you over for dinner. Meet the wife. D'youse like lobster? Of course, you like lobster, you're a fellow Rhody."

"I guess I am," Martin said, smiling in spite of himself. "I'd love to have dinner with you. And the wife."

Sinjin caught Martin's glance at Sheila. "Hey, is that your woman? You dog!" He clapped Martin in the same spot on the same shoulder. Martin rubbed it absently with his fingertips, careful not to touch it with his injured palm.

"We're just friends."

"Well, she looks like a real catch, Martin. I wouldn't throw her back in the water without baiting that hook, if you know what I mean."

"Thanks for the advice." He gave Sinjin a hearty smack back on the forearm. The man glanced at the place Martin struck. "You take care now," Martin said.

"Yeah, you too." He chuckled as Martin began to walk away. "Same old Smartypants."

Martin turned back. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Smartypants Marty," Sinjin said, grinning as if it was obvious. "You don't remember? That's what kids used to call you."

"They did, huh?"

"Yup. Not me and Nadine, though. The other kids."

Smartypants Marty. The nickname did have a familiar ring to it. There were no hurt feelings attached to it, just a word that rhymed with his name. And Nadine must have been the freckled girl with the red hair. The feelings that arose thinking of her made him wonder if she'd been his first crush.