Martha looked at the bills, then pulled a fifty out of the pile and pushed it back across the table toward my purse.

“Keep fifty dollars for groceries,” Martha said.

“I’ll put the rest on your legal balance sheet.”

She reached into her cabinet, took out a formal court demand form, and filled in the blanks in precise cursive.

“We need Samuel Reed to sign this receipt before his branch closes at five,” Martha said.

“Otherwise, the automated bank server might record over the tape cycle.”

“My car is outside,” I said.