The Ninth First Date

Beth sat across the table from her father at a tiny, crowded restaurant, cutting her waffle into pieces and listening to him talk about what he’d been up to lately. As a retired gentleman who lived on his own, you would think there wouldn’t be much to talk about, but he went on and on about the tomatoes he was getting from his backyard garden, the new car wash that he’d tried that had damaged his antenna, and a new recipe for fish tacos that he wanted to make for her some time.

“What about you? What have you been up to?” Bob asked.

She stabbed a piece of waffle with her fork, then stabbed a piece of chicken, and swirpd the combination through the spicy maple syrup on her plate. “Not a whole lot,” she admitted. “I’v...

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