The next morning, when we got up, Janet immediately went back into her office and I sat down with one of the scores I’d be conducting tonight. A few minutes later, I heard her voice rise. I could tell she was angry. I couldn’t help but hear it.
“What’s this about not helping pay for UCLA?” I heard her ask. She’d called David in San Francisco. I probably shouldn’t have been listening, but I was in the living room and the door into her office was open.
“Yes, I know it’s four times more expensive than the other schools but it’s where she wants to go. It has an extraordinary program…Yes, she’s been accepted at Pomona, too, but the program is better at UCLA and has what she wants to study…” There was quite a while before she continued. “You are kidding me. She’s your daughter, too. Your respo
