I continued with the behavior section. “No lifting weights, no X-rays, no hot tubs, no sports, okay, you can’t leave Minnesota, etc. . . .” I didn’t read the next part aloud, but they could see the rest of the sentence for themselves. It said “no sexual intercourse.” I didn’t need to embarrass Cally by getting into detail on that. And since Ruth had informed me that Cally had broken up with her high school boyfriend, the sexual prohibitions were most likely moot.

Cally blushed and said, “I’m not planning on doing any of those things.”

“Okay, good.” I moved on. “This is traditional surrogacy, meaning you are also donating your egg. That’s why you’re getting the higher fee, okay, which we’ll cover at the end.”

Cally nodded. Ruth shifted in her chair, and it groaned. We’d been having problems with our conference room chairs: the hydraulics were unpredictable; the chairs were either too high or too low, and the squeaking sounds could be embarrassing. Ruth ignored the chair’s noise as she reached for her pen and made some notes.

I skipped a few sections and turned to the ones I’d marked for special emphasis. “Okay, next page,” I said. “You, the surrogate, affirm that you are not aware of any reason you would not be capable of conceiving and bearing a healthy child in the future. You also attest that your sole intention is to assist me, the intended father, and Ruth, the intended mother, in adding to my family.”

“To our family, right, Hal? Shouldn’t that say ‘our’ family?” said Ruth.

“Yes, Poppy, sorry about that,” I said, using her nickname, which made her blush. “Okay, then, the rest of this is legalese and disclaimers,” I explained. “‘Surrogacy is an unsettled area of law in the state of Minnesota,’ et cetera, and ‘no warranties can be made as to the outcome of judicial proceedings which may result,’ et cetera, and let us know if you have questions about this last part, Cally.”

“I will,” she said, but I wasn’t entirely confident of that, and I didn’t think Ruth was, either.

“Maybe run it by your manager’s sister, or whatever we should call her,” said Ruth.

“Her name is . . . Gwen,” said Pat, checking her notes.

“I already did,” said Cally.

“Okay, good.” I waited a beat for any questions, but hearing none, I continued. “Shall we turn to the money part? Schedule C.”

As the women turned to the fee section, Cally leaned her elbow on the table. At one point, she covered her mouth with her hand, presumably in awe of the dollar amounts. The numbers were there in black and white, but I thought it was important to read them aloud, and I did.

“That’s more than I’d make working full-time for, like, two years,” Cally said in a low voice.