"You're home, finally! God, you look awful."

Kathy opened the door of her condo to see her best friend sprawled out on the couch with her feet on the coffee table. Tessa was tall enough to be a model, but her proportions were more scarecrow than Barbie, a comparison made more apt by her huge cloud of curly blond hair. She and Kathy had been friends since middle school, they lived in the same building and had keys to each other’s places, and Tessa was currently helping herself to the last of Kathy's yogurt.

"Thanks for reminding me," Kathy said, dragging herself to the coat rack to put up her keys and bag before collapsing face first into the couch across Tessa's lap.

"You're out of yogurt."

Kathy groaned in reply, and Tessa patted her head.

"Long day?" she asked.

"Unbelievably."

"Well, good news. You'll have plenty of time to relax on your date tonight!"

Kathy groaned louder. Tessa rubbed her back.

"Aw, come on," Tessa pleaded. "Richard is a really nice guy! You're going to have a great time."

"You don't know he's nice," Kathy pointed out, her voice muffled by the sofa.

"Well, I know Linda from my yoga class thinks he's really nice."

"She's his sister!"

"From my experience with brothers, that should make her think he's awful," Tessa pointed out. "Besides, I may not know he's nice, but I know he's healthy, good looking, and financially stable. That's what you're really looking for here, right?"

"You make me sound like some weird gold digger." Kathy sat up so that she could glare at Tessa. "It's not like I'm doing this because I have a choice."

"Then don't go on the date." Tessa shrugged, unconcerned. "It's not like I care if you get your inheritance."

Kathy pursed her lips, struggling with what to say. Then she gave up, shoulders sagging.

"It's a lot of money," she conceded.

Tessa laughed, and Kathy, defeated, turned to prying her shoes off her aching feet.

"Plus, the family home in Colorado," she added, chucking one of her heels across her stylishly decorated but conspicuously unlived-in living room. "If I let that go, my family would never forgive me."

"I'm sorry for laughing," Tessa said, setting the yogurt down on the coffee table. "I shouldn't. It really is messed up. What kind of father forces his daughter to get pregnant? That's some dark ages B.S."

"According to the will, he doesn't want me to end up like him." Kathy sighed, unable to resist the urge to defend her father, dropping her other shoe unceremoniously on the floor. "He spent his whole life focused on nothing but his work. He pushed me and Mom away and ended up in that hospital, dying alone. So, he thinks making me have a kid will force me to focus on family. Cause that worked so well for him, right?"

"I thought people were supposed to get nicer and more understanding when they find out they're dying," Tessa said, shaking her head.

"I don't think that's it," Kathy mused, leaning back against the sofa, rolling her stiff shoulders. "I think it's more like…people find out they're dying and get desperate to leave some kind of mark on the world. We're always so sure there's going to be more time. Then suddenly there isn't, and we realize how much we've wasted on things that won't matter or be remembered. I think a lot of people who find out they're dying would like to pick up a weapon and go around screaming and overthrowing governments. Get themselves a statue or at least a note in a history book somewhere. But instead, we just try to make nice memories with our families or guilt them into something, in hopes we'll be remembered through them, maybe."

Kathy shook her head, hands open, palms up, like she was trying to wrench the complicated truth out of the air. "I don't know. Dad just seemed so desperate to leave something behind, and it’s like he didn't even want to bother trying to get through to me because he knew the damage was already done. He just kept working on that last article like if he made it good enough it might, I don't know, save him or redeem him somehow. In the end, I still don't think he liked it."

"Was it any good?" Tessa asked, choosing, probably wisely, not to comment on Kathy's philosophical quandary. Kathy shrugged.

"His publishers liked it," she replied. "It's being considered for some awards."

"You haven't read it?"

Kathy shook her head, frowning, discomfort and guilt pulling down the corners of her mouth as sharply as origami folds.

"Don't you want to?" Tessa asked, looking confused. "I mean, it was obviously important to him."

"I will eventually." Kathy tried to escape the issue, standing up on stiff and wobbly legs to wander into the kitchen for something to drink. "So, when am I supposed to meet this Richard guy?"

"He's picking you up at six," Tessa answered from the couch, where she'd resumed eating her yogurt.

Kathy pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time and hissed a curse when she saw that it was already five.

"Come on," she said, grabbing Tessa and dragging her away from the couch. "I'm going to need your help."

She showered quickly while Tessa hunted through her closet for the best outfit.

"Not that," she said as she came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and fumbling for the hair dryer on her vanity.

"But it's cute!" Tessa protested, holding up the tiny red dress.

"I'm looking for a baby, not a one night stand." Kathy went to the closet herself, shuffling through her clothing with a rapidly deepening frown as she hunted for something first date appropriate.

"What about this?" she asked, pulling out a blouse and suit jacket.

"Are you dating him or interviewing him for a job?" Tessa asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Neither," Kathy huffed. "Both. I don't know!"

She threw the outfit onto the bed and turned back to the closet.

"Well, what are you after here?" Tessa asked, putting the dress down. "If you're just looking for a sperm donor, they have clinics for that, you know."

"Cause being a single mom sounds fantastic." Kathy rolled her eyes.

"So, what, you want to get married?" Tessa pressed Kathy for an answer impatiently. "Cause that might take a while. Don't you only have a year before the will expires and everything gets taken by the bank?"

"I know how long I have, Tessa!" Kathy gritted her teeth in frustration. "I just—"

She turned around, throwing up her hands, and flopped down onto the bed.

"I want to have some kind of connection," she said, trying to put her conflicting feelings into words. "I don't know that I want to get married or even continue a relationship with the guy. I just don't want my kid's father to be some stranger I never met, or only saw once or twice. I want to know who they are."

"You know you won't be doing this alone, whatever happens," Tessa said gently, coming to sit beside her. "I'm going to be here to help you. Plus, with the inheritance and what you make, raising a kid on your own is doable. You don't have to chain yourself to some guy you barely know."

"I just don't want to regret this," Kathy admitted.

"I'm pretty sure it's inevitable," Tessa said, putting an arm around her. "'My dad said I have to' is not exactly the ideal motivation for starting a family. You're probably bound to think 'I shouldn't have done this' at some point. But that doesn't mean you'll always feel that way, or that it won't be worth it. Here's the real question: Would you regret it more if you didn't do it?"

Kathy said nothing, unable to say one way or the other.

"Whatever you decide to do, I'm behind you all the way," Tessa promised. "Kid or no kid."

"Thanks, Tess," Kathy said gratefully, leaning on her friend's shoulder.

"But I do think you should go on this date," Tessa said, pushing her up straight again. "If you don't like the guy then the whole argument is pointless anyway. And you never know! You might fall in love!"

"Doubtful." Kathy sighed. "But all right. I'm not wearing that red dress though."

They eventually settled on a floral sundress, light enough for the warm weather, reserved but still flirty, and Tessa helped with Kathy's makeup and hair.

"I'll text you from the restaurant," Kathy said as she grabbed her bag and headed for the door, Tessa following her. "I should be back around ten."

"Not planning to get started on that baby tonight then?" Tessa teased. Kathy rolled her eyes.

"If plans change, I'll text you," she said. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck!" Tessa called, and Kathy hurried out of the door and down the stairs.

Her little condo, nice but affordable, was on the second floor of a tidy little complex. A square of tan box-shaped apartments surrounding a parking lot edged with palm trees and flowering bougainvillea bushes. She probably could have afforded something bigger or nicer, but she didn't need a lot of space and she liked having the extra money for other things. Kathy did all right for herself. She made enough to save a little each month and not have to struggle to keep food in the house. Every once in a while she could splurge on something nice, but she was smart enough to know the wire she walked. A kid would be just the thing to knock her off her semi-comfortable perch.

She'd done her research after her father's will had come out. Having a child was expensive—especially without a second income to chip in. She'd have never even considered it without this unexpected insistence from her dead father. The inheritance would certainly help. He'd been very successful and his savings was considerable. But regardless of what Tessa said, Kathy didn't think it was reasonable to expect that she could do this on her own.

She headed down the street, checking the time. The sun was still bright, the pavement steaming hot. The sun wouldn't set till past eight this time of year. Kathy was glad for the shower and the extra coat of deodorant. Florida heat, even in spring, was nothing to sneeze at. The average temperature hovered around the eighties for most of the season and jumped to the low nineties in the summer.

The heat wavered in little mirages above the ground, distorting images of fire bush and fern. The spring was still young, the plants still green and thriving. But Kathy knew from experience they would all be brown and dried out and dead well before midsummer. Still, she liked Florida best during the spring and fall when the temperatures found an unsteady balance and the greenery went wild, and it felt, for a little while, like you really were living in a tropical paradise. There were days, lying on the barren white sand on the beach and trying not to roast, where she felt she might as well have moved to the desert.

It made her miss Colorado, where she'd grown up and where her extended family still lived. The deep wet green of the Pacific Northwest seemed like a distant myth when walking down the hot, crowded sidewalk of Miami. The ranch where her grandfather kept horses, the cold creek that ran through the old evergreens, the sight of mountains always on the horizon; these were the places her thoughts returned to when she tired of the dried-out endless flatness of Florida.

She'd moved here to get away from her father, literally moving as far away as she could, and she did love it sometimes. Being so close to the ocean was wonderful, and she loved the people and the culture there, the color and the excitement and not having to wear six layers if you wanted to leave the house before June. But it did wear on you after a while. Sometimes she longed to be nomadic.

The small park where she was to meet Richard was not very far down the road from her apartment. If there was one great thing about Florida, it was that even in Miami it rarely ever felt like you were living in the city. Not like New York or Chicago, which she'd visited on business before, which tended to feel like being imprisoned in a concrete box. Here, all but the densest downtown areas were still full of greenery, and open parks were frequent.

This one was an open lot on an otherwise busy street, bordered on either side by businesses. Bees were droning noisily through the boughs of small orange trees, their pale branches heavy with thick clusters of white flowers. Their scent was so sticky sweet it was almost nauseating in the oppressive heat.

Kathy stood beneath them, her white dress with its camouflage of blue flowers translucent while the hot breeze picked up the chiffon from the lining to shine the afternoon sunlight through it like a stained-glass window. That useless breeze, like hot breath, tugged at the brown curls she'd secured in a high ponytail, sticking them to her neck. Her skin already felt too tight and uncomfortable. She glanced at her phone to check the time. She hoped he wouldn't be late and told herself that, if he was, she would leave. She wasn't so desperate that she'd hang around a park in ninety-degree weather just to be stood up.

Fortunately, a little silver sedan pulled up to the curb just on time, and Kathy smiled as she recognized the man who climbed out from the photos Tessa had shown her. He was taller than her with neat chestnut hair and a narrow, angular face. He was fairly handsome—not movie-star glamour, but wholesome and approachable. When he saw her, he smiled and waved. Kathy felt better about the date at once.

"Kathy, right?" he asked, jogging up to her. When she nodded, he held out a hand to shake. "Richard. It's great to meet you."

Kathy fumbled for a moment to move her purse to her other hand so that she could accept the shake. He stood there with his hand awkwardly perpendicular to his body, then dropped it just a second before she straightened up with her own hand out. They stared at each other for a moment and she dropped hers too.

"So, uh, have you been on a blind date before?" Richard asked.

"Not really," Kathy admitted. "This is kind of a recent development for me. I was primarily focusing on my career until now."

"Yeah, this is pretty unusual for me too." Richard laughed briefly and then fell silent. Kathy shifted, wondering if she should say something or if he was about to.

"So, uh," he continued after too long of a pause. Kathy realized he'd been waiting for her to say something and felt stupid. "You're a news anchor, right? I've seen you on TV before."

"Yeah," Kathy replied, smiling. Deciding she wouldn't let the conversation falter like that again, she dove on the subject like a hungry animal. "I co-anchor for the biggest part of the day. I love it, but I do kind of miss field reporting. I get to cover bigger and more in-depth pieces now, but I get to do less of my own stuff. Plus, there's a sense of disconnect from when I used to be actually on the street where it's happening. My dad was in media too, and he always warned me not to get tied to a desk but…"

Kathy trailed off with a nervous laugh. Richard was nodding and smiling politely, looking a little lost. Strike two.

"What do you do?" she asked hopefully. "Tessa said you were a doctor?"

Richard brightened.

"Not precisely," he said. "I'm an epidemiologist. I study the distribution and determinants of health-related events in specific populations. Right now I'm looking at statewide data on heavy metal toxicity from obsolete lead pipes in community water systems. It's actually kind of a big deal. I'm hoping to present my predictions about the effects on birthrates and general health over the next ten years at the Convocation of Southern State Epidemiologists next March."

Kathy frowned, trying to pay attention to what Richard had to say, despite the instinct to tune out. It wasn't that she didn't understand what he was saying, but people who used bigger words than they needed to, just to sound smart, irked her. It was hard not to dismiss anything said so smugly out of hand. She forced herself to focus.

"Is the infrastructure in Florida that bad?" Kathy asked. "That there are enough bad pipes for heavy metal poisoning to be an issue?"

"Not really." Richard shrugged. "I mean, we're better than some places. At least we don't live in Michigan, right? Although I guess it would be better for my study if we did."

He laughed, but Kathy didn't really get the joke. She was aware of the water crisis in Flint, Michigan, but she struggled to see how anyone, much less someone who studied the effects of such things for a living, could find it funny. A stiffly polite smile on her face, she waited out the ensuing uncomfortable silence.

"But, yeah." Richard cleared his throat and looked embarrassed. "It doesn't really matter. I've just got a smaller sample size. Anyway, work isn't really that important to me. It's just what you do to get by, right?"

"Actually, I'm very passionate about my work," Kathy said. "It's everything I always wanted to do with my life. I wouldn't give it up for the world."

"Ah." Richard didn't seem to know where to go from there. The conversation fell as limp as a fainting victim between them. Kathy tried to resuscitate it.

"It's hot out," she said, hoping he'd get the hint and they could head to the restaurant.

"Yeah, it's been humid as hell this week," Richard agreed, not getting it. "I hope it rains soon and cools things off a little."

"We're supposed to get some rain this weekend," Kathy supplied, ashamed of herself. God help them, they were talking about the weather now.

"I'll have to write myself a note to bring the trash cans in," Richard said, chatting as though this were a casual elevator ride with a coworker, soon to be ended by arrival at their separate floors, thus preventing the descent of inevitable awkward silence. "I always forget and they end up full of water."

"Do you want to go?" Kathy asked, giving up. "To the restaurant, I mean?"

"Oh, right!" Richard blinked as though he'd only just remembered that they were standing around in the sun for no reason. "Of course."

He opened the car door for her with a smile, which Kathy appreciated.

"I got us reservations at this great place on the beach," he said as they settled into the car. "We can watch the sunset over the water while we eat and everything. Hope you like seafood!"

"I'm allergic, actually," Kathy said, sighing as she buckled her seatbelt, resigned at this point.

"Oh," Richard looked briefly crushed and Kathy felt bad for him. "I could cancel the reservations? I'm sure we can find somewhere else—"

"No, it's fine," Kathy said quickly. "It sounds nice. I'm sure they'll have something safe for me on the menu. Don't worry about it."

"I should have asked if you had any preferences before I made the reservations," Richard said, shaking his head. "I'm an idiot."

"Honestly, it's fine," Kathy insisted. "They probably have a surf and turf dish. I'll just ask them to hold the surf. These kinds of things are just to be expected with a blind date."

"Yeah, but if I'd expected it I wouldn't have made such a stupid mistake," Richard said, continuing to beat himself up. "I just wanted everything to be perfect tonight."

"Seriously," Kathy said loudly, trying to jar him out of his funk. "It's okay! I'm not upset! I've eaten at seafood restaurants before. It's really, really okay!"

Richard finally accepted her insistence and started the car, pulling away from the curb. A long and uncomfortable silence lingered.

The two finally found a talking point in that they shared a common love of horror movies, discussing their favorites, which had scared them the most, and debating what sequels would come out next.

They continued to talk movies amicably as they drove to the restaurant and relief washed over Kathy like the cool breeze from the air conditioner over her skin. So, it had been an awkward start. This was a blind date after all; it was to be expected. This was salvageable.