When they were buckled up and the car was in gear, Pete turned to her. “What are you in the mood for?”

Once she would have shrugged and said something like, it doesn’t matter. That was the old Cady. “I think I’d like some good Japanese. Hibachi style.”

“You got it! So, how was your day? By the way, you look really nice. I like that color on you. What’s it called?”

“Burnt orange. You look nice yourself.” And he did. He wasn’t overdressed in a suit and tie. He wore creased chinos, a white button-down shirt, open at the neck, and a light tweed jacket. She thought they complemented each other perfectly.

As a rule she hated blind dates. She was always uncomfortable and worried that she wasn’t holding up her end of the conversation. Pete wasn’t exactly a blind date, but still close to it. She said so. He laughed.

“Cady, we played together. We walked to and from school together. We were good friends. We aren’t strangers.”

“I know that, but in some ways we are strangers. We haven’t seen one another in over twenty years. What made you choose the law?”

“My parents. One of my teachers said he thought I was a natural. The accident played a good part in it, too. I was a senior in high school trying to make a decision as to which college to go to. I was in the library, and for some strange reason, I went to the microfiche and looked up all the old articles on the accident. They threw me out of the library that night. I remember I was the last one to leave.

“Someone either very wise or very stupid had a handle on it all. It could have turned into a legal circus, but it never happened. I guess that’s when I made my decision. My original intention was to become a public defender, but they don’t make much money, so I opted for private practice.”

“Money’s important,” Cady said. So, he’s into money.

“Especially when you never had any. Two of my college classmates went on to get medical degrees. They went into medicine for the money. Strictly for the money, no other reason.”

“I don’t much care about that sort of attitude. I hope they’re good doctors.”

Pete threw his head back and laughed. “Marty Engleman is in nuclear medicine. He’s on his third wife, and paying out so much alimony and child support he’s struggling like the rest of us. Zack Bancroft went into dermatology so he could work nine to five. He misdiagnosed a case a few years into his practice and got slapped with a malpractice suit. He’d let his premiums lapse and got taken to the cleaners. His wife left him, and he’s floundering.”

“That’s terrible,” Cady said.

“In a way I guess it is. They were greedy. That’s the bottom line. When you go into private practice, you need to think and plan for the future. You plot your course, and you stay on it. We’re here,” he said, turning into a crowded parking lot. “The food is really good. What I really like about this place is they have several small tables where you aren’t sitting with strangers. I think you’ll like it. They have some great plum wine, but I usually have the Japanese beer. Which do you like?”