“The ones for prom,” he said.

“I saw those old, worn-out silver shoes in the bottom of your closet when I dropped off your winter coat back in October.

Scuffed right down to the plastic heels.

We’re going to get you some decent ones.”

Sadie looked up from her hand, her fingers closing tighter around the crisp bill.

“You mean that?”

“Next Saturday morning,” Rory said.

“I’ll pick you up here at ten sharp, and we’ll drive over to the shoe store at the mall.”