They could have easily driven to the service from their homes, but instead we all checked into a hotel, a very expensive one, in the town of Cary, and really pushed the boat out, charging everything to the estate: room service, drinks—the works. The staff thought we were attending a wedding, that’s how merry we seemed as we headed to the church in our dress clothes. “Can you take our picture?” Amy asked one of the doormen as she handed him her phone. She looked like she was going to a ball thrown by Satan.
