Ella

It's nine in the morning as I stand outside the extravagant entrance of the family mansion and my mom pulls up in a custom-paint-job metallic red Rolls-Royce.

"Baby, what are you wearing? I told you we were going somewhere special today."

I laugh as my mother complains, all in good nature. Apparently designer clothing isn't enough and she was expecting more than jeans, boots, and a cashmere sweater.

Mom's always been like that. She's fond ...