I turned and walked back to my truck without waiting to see whether he’d open the side door.

The streetlight on the corner threw long, pale shadows over my porch steps when I got home.

Irene was waiting at the front screen door, wiping her thumbs on a dish towel as she carried the last tray of wrapped rolls out from the living room floor.

“That’s eighteen hundred thirty rolls in all,” Irene said, setting the last paper bundle into the grid of the top crate.

“Not one dirty coin left in the house.”