I planned everything — even my dad’s favorite dessert. My parents texted: “Ashley will take your place. She won’t embarrass us.” I replied: “Noted.” On trip day, they called: “What did you do?” I just said: “This is only the beginning.”
By the time my mother sent the message, I had already packed the garment bags, printed the boarding passes, confirmed the hotel suite upgrade, and sealed my father’s favorite bourbon pecan pie in a cooler with dry ice so it would survive the flight.
I was sitting at my kitchen island in Denver, reviewing the itinerary for the benefit gala …
