I picked out a four-piece screwdriver set in a clear plastic pack, two rolls of self-adhesive shelf paper printed with little blue tiles and a small box of brass picture hooks.

It all came to thirty-two dollars and fourteen cents.

“You just move into the brick building by the dock?” the clerk asked as he scanned the shelf paper.

He was a heavyset man with graying sideburns and a green canvas apron.

“I moved in this morning,” I said.

“It’s a quiet building,” he said, dropping the screwdrivers into a brown paper bag.

“Mostly summer people, but three of us live there all year.”