“Morning, Becky,” Marge said over the little speaker.

“What can we do for you today?”

I lifted a heavy blue canvas bag off the passenger seat.

I’d spent twenty minutes scraping two hundred loose pennies off the concrete step into the bottom of it.

“I need to deposit into my checking account,” I said through the window grille.

Marge tapped her black ballpoint three times on the glass.

“Are those coins in standard rolls?” she asked.