Chapter 8 - The Meeting in Boulder
A year after the pool incident in Aspen, our foundation hosted its annual gala at the Boulder Museum of Contemporary Art.
Over three hundred philanthropists, business leaders, and community advocates gathered under the glass atrium to celebrate the opening of five new regional crisis centers across Colorado.
Standing near the sculpture terrace, looking out over the mountain view, was Julian Montgomery.
Julian was a brilliant civil rights litigator and venture philanthropist whom I had met through our foundation’s legal coalition. He was tall, athletic, with kind hazel eyes, an easy smile, and a quiet, immovable integrity that demanded no performance and required no pretense.
Julian walked over, holding two glasses of sparkling mineral water, offering one to me with a warm smile.
"You gave an extraordinary speech tonight, Madison," Julian said softly. "You’ve changed the lives of thousands of women in this state."
"We gave them their strength back, Julian," I smiled, taking the glass. "Sometimes people just need to know they don't have to stay in the cold."
Julian looked into my eyes, his expression full of genuine, unvarnished admiration.
"Would you let me take you to dinner tomorrow night, Madison? No board business. No foundation strategy. Just two people enjoying the autumn air."
May you like
I looked at his warm, honest face, feeling the last lingering walls around my heart gently soften.
"I would love that, Julian," I replied.
