At my parents’ 30th anniversary dinner, Mom stood up in front of 40 relatives and said, “You’re the biggest mistake we ever made.”
The first thing I noticed that night was the way the city lights spilled across the glass like scattered diamonds. Bella Vista had always done that—framed the skyline in a way that made everything outside seem a little bit magical, a little bit untouchable. Thirty floors up, the restaurant felt suspended between worlds: the polished,…