A couple passed me in the front row, then sat in the two seats to my right. I heard an “Oh” and turned to see that it wasn’t a couple at all—it was Liz Trombly and Emil Reinhardt.

Liz looked mortified to be next to me, but got out, “You look lovely tonight.”

“You too,” I said, trying to put her at ease. “I’m so excited to hear the piece.”

Emil Reinhardt leaned over her to shake my hand. “Everybody’s in for a treat.”

A flash of blue and blond dropped into the seat next to me. Jules’s cheeks were flushed with excitement. “This is my first classical music experience, do not let me fall asleep.”

“I promise. You won’t.”

The orchestra quieted, house lights dimming but not all the way—enough to cue the audience to wrap up chitchat. Nora walked onstage, shimmering in her long blue dress. Everyone applauded. She pressed her hands to her face like she was blushing, then waved for everyone to stop.

“It is my great honor as chairwoman,” she said, “to open this season of Amberley concerts with . . . something extraordinary.”

The entire hall went perfectly silent.

“A new voice. And a new era for our school.”

Applause, everywhere, a smattering of whistles. I clapped along, smiling through my panic. How was I going to do this with Liz and Reinhardt right next to me?

“Diversity is not just a buzzword,” she went on. “It is a reflection of life—exactly what the greatest works of classical music strive for. So tonight, I hope you will join me in opening, not just your wallets . . . !” She paused for laughter, and was rewarded. “But your hearts and minds as well.”

I tasted something sour. Kept clapping.

With a grand gesture to the orchestra, she started offstage.

This was it. My moment.

Think about the cause. It really is everything.

I stood and turned toward the audience, purse raised high like Nora at the park tea. I remembered that one quick lesson with Odile, drew a breath from the diaphragm, and let my voice ring out loud and clear.

“I’d like to pledge twenty thousand dollars to Amberley’s diversity fund.”

A gasp rippled through the audience—not at the amount, a modest sum to many of them—but at who I was, whose child, how young, the breach of decorum I’d committed in talking cold, hard cash before a cultural event. The gesture was still enough to bring forth a round of applause, and to draw Nora back center stage, hands clutched eagerly together.

She sought me out, mouthing thank you, and I could tell from the triumph in her eyes that she was actually moved right now. She saw my mother in me—and herself. I’d become all she’d hoped I would be.

But I wasn’t done.

“Just as soon as they establish a diversity fund.”