The celebrity-studded charity affair would introduce her to the New York critics. Yo-Yo Ma, Plácido Domingo, Kathleen Battle, Emanuel Ax and the brilliant young violinist Sondra Lewis were the main attractions. She still could hardly believe it.

“We’re here, miss,” the cabbie said, an edge in his voice. With a start, Sondra realized that his irritation was due to the fact that he’d already told her that once.

“Oh, sorry.” The fare was $3.40. She fished in her wallet for a five-dollar bill. “That’s fine,” she said, opening the door and starting to get out.

“I don’t think you really wanted to give me a forty-five dollar tip, miss.”

Sondra looked at the fifty-dollar bill the cabbie was holding out to her. “Oh, thank you,” she stammered.

“That’s a big mistake, lady. Lucky for you I don’t take advantage of pretty young women.”

As Sondra exchanged the fifty for a five-dollar bill, she thought-too bad you weren’t around when I traded my baby for my grandfather’s good opinion of me and my own chance at success.

5

When they reached the building on Amsterdam Avenue -formerly the Goldsmith and Son Furniture Emporium-that now housed Sister Cordelia’s clothing thrift shop, Alvirah and Willy went directly to the second floor.

It was four o’clock, and the children who regularly came to Home Base to take advantage of the after-school facilities were sitting cross-legged on the floor around Sister Maeve Marie. The large area had been transformed into a kind of bright and cheery auditorium. The faded linoleum was polished to the point that even the floorboards beneath the worn spaces glistened.

The walls were painted sunshine yellow and decorated with drawings and cutouts the children had made. Old-fashioned radiators whistled and thudded, but thanks to Willy and his near-magical ability to fix the unfixable, there was no mistaking the warmth they provided.