“Sioux Falls,” Tasha said, turning her phone over in her hands so she could check her reflection in the dark screen.

“We went to that upscale shop on Main Street.

Rory told her to pick out whatever she liked without even looking at the price tag.”

The other mother sighed softly and capped her pen.

“Must be nice to have a husband who doesn’t panic over formal wear.”

“Well, he knows what matters to a young girl,” Tasha said, smoothing her sweater sleeve.

“A girl only gets one senior prom, and we want her to feel like a princess.”