Marshalls on a Saturday! Oh, boy: the crowds. Rebecca wanted to make it quick. She headed to the dress section and started to flip through the dresses in her size, with Morgan joining her like a small but bossy personal shopper. “How about this?” suggested Morgan. “Or this?” She held out two dresses made for women twenty years younger.

“No strapless,” said Rebecca. “No mid-thigh.” She glanced at her watch. She did not want to spend all day at Marshalls. “I’ll probably buy a few things and try them on at home,” she said. “I hate going in the dressing rooms here. I’m sure one of these will work.” She loaded up her cart with four not-terrible options in her size and considered heading to the shoe section. But then she spotted Melanie near the shoes, and she didn’t want to talk to Melanie. If Melanie spotted Rebecca, she might say something in front of Morgan about who Rebecca was bringing to the party. And if Melanie was in Marshalls there was a good chance at least one other Mom Squad member was also in Marshalls, just based on odds.

She pulled Morgan down one of the housewares aisles. It was much more quiet in this part of the store. And wasn’t the housewares section of Marshalls as good a place as any to do what had to be done?

“Listen, Morgan,” she said. “There’s something I have to tell you, before tonight.”

“What?” Morgan was running her hands along the fluffy towels.

Rebecca breathed in, then let the breath out slowly. “I have a date,” she said. “I’m going with a date to Brooke’s party.” Morgan looked up from the towels. “I’ve been seeing someone, Morgs. Dating someone. For a few months now. I’ve been sort of hiding it, keeping it a secret from everyone. But I decided recently I’m ready to stop doing that.” She couldn’t read Morgan’s expression. “Does that make you sad?”

“Sort of,” Morgan whispered. She stared hard at the bath mats, blinking. Rebecca reached for Morgan’s hand, but Morgan snatched it away. Tears appeared in Morgan’s eyes, and then one fell out, mixing with the overnight camp dirt on her face.

“Here.” Rebecca handed her one of the washcloths from the shelf, let Morgan wipe her face on it and then added it to the items in the cart. She waited and allowed an older woman with a cartful of beach towels make her way by. “I understand if it makes you sad, Morgs. I do. I promise, I’m taking it slow with this guy. I’m not trying to replace Daddy. You know that, right? Nobody will ever replace Daddy.”

Morgan didn’t answer that. Instead she said, “You mean like someone’s going to pick you up and drive you there? Like a date date? A Disney Channel date?”