After I refused to pay for my daughter’s lavish wedding, she blocked me. A few days later, she invited me to a “Reconciliation Dinner” and said, “Mom, sign here, or you won’t see your grandson anymore.” I Calmly Opened My Purse, Made A Phone Call... The burgundy dress was the same one I wore to my daughter’s high-school graduation and the night she landed her first job. Tuesday at 6:30 p.m., I wore it again—Franco’s on Meridian Street, the little Italian place my late husband loved. A folded nap