Pomeline fidgeted nervously at her table. She had gone out of her way to reserve a table at a high-class restaurant on the busiest day of the year, and she didn’t want to ruin her reputation as an unobtainable flower by getting stood up. Well, being stood up by such an emotionless man did have a certain appeal, didn’t it?

  She sat up straighter when she spotted her date entering the restaurant. He looked just as refined as always, like a tree. Wait, wasn’t she the tree here? Pomeline adjusted her hair a final time before he came close enough to pretend to have just noticed him without looking desperate. “Ah! I’m over here, darling.” How cheeky to use a pet name in public. They did declare their love for each other in letters, so it should be okay, right?

  “Good evening.” Norman took the seat across from her with a polite nod. He didn’t even notice that he was being referred to by a pet name. He just assumed she was using darling in the same way that lunch ladies do. The fact that they were the same age and of opposite genders didn’t even occur to him.

  “I’m so glad that you could come. Did you enjoy the festival yesterday? Did the children look okay in their garbs?” Pomeline could feel her face heat up, she had never been this nervous in front of a man before. It couldn’t be helped; Lord Persson was her first boyfriend, after all. Ah! Calling him a boyfriend at their age wouldn’t be proper. Betrothed, perhaps? She liked the sound of that!

  “We had fun. The kids looked great. They liked the clothing.” Norman wasn’t much for conversation, especially with people he barely knew. He knew that regular socializing was beneficial for a business partnership, so he would faithfully answer any question she had, even if he didn’t understand why she was asking. “You are great at printing patterns.”

  Pomeline had received many compliments in the past, but none felt as sweet as the ones from her future husband. It felt like getting a passing grade from a stern professor. Mmmh…. he’d look good in a professor’s suit. “Oh! Please, have some pie.” She slid a piece of cherry pie across the table. He seemed like the kind of man to like the tart flavor of cherries. She couldn’t wait to figure out all his preferences.

  “Thank you.” Norman hated pie, but he gratefully accepted the food without making an issue out of it. Technically, he didn’t hate pie per se. He just hated pies filled with things. Fruit and berries should be eaten on their own, as should sweets. Pie crust was delicious on its own, so why did everyone insist on adding a bunch of unnecessary things to it? Even though the texture made him want to scrape his tongue off, he still ate it. That was the polite thing to do.

  The conversation between them flowed about as well as a frozen river, something Pomeline chalked up to nervousness on both their parts. As a dryad, she could sustain her body with sunlight, water, and sugar, but the mead she was sipping was sustaining her nerves. The music and festivities going on outside filled the awkward silence between them, making the interaction somewhat bearable. “So! Are you planning on expanding your range of products in the near future?”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “Yes. I am looking into renting or purchasing a storefront. I am unsure about what products would be in demand with our current market of upper-class women.” Now this was easier to talk about! Norman was always open to a conversation about good old business. Pomeline was part of his current market, so if anyone could provide any meaningful insights, it would be her.

  “A storefront! How exciting! Let me tell you, cosmetics are all the rage these days! Everyone does powders and lipsticks, the whole works! It was revolutionary when they first started coming out, but then people found out how easy they were to make, and now you can’t go anywhere without seeing at least two cosmetics stores!” Pomeline moved her hands as she spoke, excited to talk about her interests. She was a woman who cared a lot about her appearance, and she never went outside without a full face of cosmetics.

  “But you know what? There is one part of the cosmetics market that is practically untouched due to its difficulty.” She smirked devilishly, both at the money making opportunity and the thought of being the first to try any potential products, “It’s perfumes! Only a rare few alchemists even bother, and the result ends up earthy and fades easily. Not to mention the outrageous price just to smell like grass for an hour!”

  “Perfumes, huh. I assumed they were already commonplace, but it appears I have overlooked a potential staple product.” Norman tapped the table rhythmically as he made a mental note on potential expenses and profits. “I would have to research the manufacturing process and see if it’s even possible.”

  “Your magic hands made dyes that seamstresses like me could only ever dream about! If anyone can make it work, it’s you.” Part of what she was saying was pure flattery, but she really did believe in him. The Persson Trading Company only sold two products, yet they were already a household name in her social circles. She had a feeling that the company would go far, and she wanted a piece of the pie.

  Speaking of pie, Norman bit into something hard nestled in his pie. After a split-second internal freakout, he pulled out the small object and inspected it. It was a cherry pit. It probably got missed in the preparation of the filling and somehow made its way into the pie. He awkwardly put it on the side of his plate, relieved that it wasn’t a piece of metal or rock.

  “Oh! A pit! How lucky!” Pomeline picked the still-wet cherry pit up between her fingers, inspecting it under the candle light. “It’s still alive despite being cooked! Double lucky! May I keep it?” She asked, her entire face radiating anticipation and something else Norman didn’t understand.

  “Huh? That seems unhygienic. Do as you wish.” Norman didn’t know why she wanted it, but it wouldn’t hurt him to give it away. Maybe it was a tradition he didn’t know about yet. A lot of things he didn’t understand ended up being rituals or customs, after all.

  “Oh! Lovely! Thank you very much!” She tucked the seed safely in her dress before scampering out the door to do god knows what with it. After paying the bill, of course. No proper lady dines and dashes. Proper ladies also say goodbye, but that wasn't important right now.

  “What a strange woman.”

  [SOMETIMES I WONDER IF YOU’RE ACTUALLY SMART OR IF YOU'RE JUST SO DUMB IT ENDS UP LOOKING LIKE WISDOM.]