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whose sample you used didn't have any illnesses or disorders that could prove fatal for your future child.
    " This way, you never have to worry about being impregnated by a man with HIV, for example, or with hemophilia or congenital heart problems."
    " How many women have used your... services?"
    " Well, since we opened ten years ago, we've helped 30,000 women here in Denmark alone. And when we initiated the open sperm donations two years ago, we helped 5,000 more women."
    The figure was significant. I nodded slowly and let her words sink in. It was a figure Niklas would respect.
    "If you're worried about the race of your child, we have African and African-American donors as well. I'm sure a few of them will come to the mingle."
    " Do you get a lot of Danish women who want black children?"
    " Quite a few," Ida said, without seeming surprised by my question.
    " My partner is Swedish, so I think it's probably best if I have a donor who resembles him."
    " It's your decision," Ida replied. "We don't try in any way to steer your choice of donor."
    I thought she would leave it at that, but then she b egan to describe the hormone therapy that every woman had to go through to prepare for artificial insemination. The rounds of shots, the possible mood swings... the insemination itself and then the waiting. The more she told me, the less sure I felt. I wished Eddy were there. I wished I could ask her for advice, hear her reassure me about how pleased Uma was with the choices she'd made. Eddy would know all the right questions to ask. I tried to imagine sitting here with Niklas. He'd listen, he'd nod, he'd say all the right things, but later he'd shake his head and say it was all a bit trite. If I couldn't even imagine my partner here with me, why was I doing this?
    " Would you go through all of this to have a child?"
    Ida nodded and flashed a beatific smile. "Yes, I would."
    " Honestly?"
    " I would. Especially if I still hadn't met the man I want to be the father of my children, and I heard my biological clock ticking."
    " I don't want to feel desperate."
    " This isn't desperation, Laney. You already know you want to be a mother. You've just unfortunately found yourself in a situation where your partner's past decision has put you in this position." Ida slid the binders toward me. "Have a look. You don't have to make a decision now. You can walk out of here whenever you like, without making any commitment whatsoever. This is all up to you."
    I flipped open one of the binders and browsed through page after page of men. Some were exceptiona lly handsome, others average. Some so well-educated—at least on paper—that it was almost intimidating. But none of them in the first binder spoke directly to me, or elicited enough of a reaction that it warranted watching the videos Ida assured me she had of every single one of them. I asked her if there was a particularly popular one. She smiled a little enigmatically and then said, "I could show you his video. He's got magnetism."
    I was curious, so I went along with it. I had to see the man who seemed to inspire women to melt.
    And the video was very compelling. He was rugged-looking, with the sort of wind-blown, reddish blond hair and pale green eyes that made you think of a young Robert Redford. And when he spoke, he had a deep timbre that resonated inside you and made you think of long sessions of weekend sex and wine, sore muscles. I glanced away, thinking how this man probably helped populate many a Danish town. He was the man I'd seen in the café, the man I'd imagined when I should have been thinking about Niklas.
    " He's got a definite appeal." I blushed. I was glad my skin was dark enough to cover the rising heat flaring inside me.
    " He does," Ida agreed, still smiling. "You know, you should really stay for the mingle."
    " Is it here in the office?"
    " No, downstairs at the bar. I think we'll have a good crowd tonight."
    Ida changed the subject again; she wanted to know more about me,