“What did you write with it?” I asked.

Darla didn’t look up until her index finger came down hard on the blue button in the lower right corner.

“I wrote that my granddaughter Sadie is wearing a three-hundred-and-eighty-nine-dollar emerald dress her grandmother paid for in cash,” Darla said.

“And I wrote that real family shows up with open hands when a girl has worked hard for four years.”

She tucked the phone back into her black bag and snapped the clasp shut.