It was one night to skip Wendy's. I could never let a good-looking guy see me eat fast food. I had a figure and a reputation to protect, and protect it I would. Rowe picked the place, one of those cutesy-yet-ordinary spots that served the basics. It looked like someone's country kitchen. Really adorable. The hostess seated us at this little table underneath a painting of roosters.

Sandra's Diner. That was the name of the place. Apparently Rowe liked eating at places named after vague women. Much like my fast food restaurant. I ordered a chicken salad, one that Rowe recommended. The place was full of little old couples who sneaked glances at us in fascinated curiosity. Not a soul under fifty in sight.

"I really like this place," Rowe said. "The food is really good."

It smelled good. Better than my peanut-butter sandwich. "It's all down-home-ish."

"Ish," Rowe repeated thoughtfully. "Exactly what does that suffix mean?"

I shrugged. Small talk, small talk. I was fine with small talk. "Round about, I suppose."

"It's not a real suffix."

"I like it." A little awkward, but that was the fun of first dates, was it not? Besides, I needed a challenge. "So, Rowe. Hey, that rhymed." I giggled and tossed my hair. Thank goodness for good hair. "What do you do? Are you into the fairy godmother business like your dad?"

Rowe laughed. "I hate the entire fairy godmother thing like a Biblical plague, no offense."

"But we're so pretty."

He only made a face. "Yeah. Pretty. Not my thing. Hence the dirty t-shirt."

"Ah. So you aren't one of those metrosexual guys looking for better skin than me? So what do you do? You still haven't answered my question."

Another shrug. Rowe was a rather shruggy person. "I do a little bit of everything. I guess you might call me the eternal student."

Oh, great. One of those guys continually hanging around the college campus. I remembered those guys. "And to make money?"

"My dad's rich. You wouldn't believe how much he has."

"My projected pay is crap!" The waitress setting my chicken salad before me gave a start.

"It's inherited, a lot of it," Rowe explained with a wink.

This was getting a bit more interesting. I suddenly could see dark mansions of the Victorian persuasion. "Your dad is an heir and he runs this fairy godmother thing?"

"It's kind of a long story…"

I held up my hands. "I don't even think I want to hear it. I want to eat my salad."

"How come girls always eat salads?"

Maybe I should have gone for the cheeseburger. I blushed. "Really, salads are just good." There was no way to let a girl eat what she wanted. "And they're a lot more fattening than you would think." To make a point, I tipped the honey-mustard dressing on the side all over every chunk of lettuce and chicken.

"But not as fattening as the ham-and-cheese." He picked his up and chewed happily.

"How come guys always have to eat the big stuff?" I asked.

"It's manly."

"Oh. And I suppose you do lots of manly stuff for your part time random items."

"I like to fight dragons and stuff."

My chicken paused half-way to my mouth. "Are you joking? I mean, because with your dad and everything else I've seen…"

"I'll leave you that to figure out." He looked an awful lot like his dad, I realized. Only much, much cuter. And not so bizarre. "And how did you get sucked into my father's work?"

"I got a beauty license and I saw an ad that looked a heck of a lot more interesting than that traditional beauty parlor." I should have stuck with that.

"Beauty school." Rowe rolled his eyes and took another huge bit of ham-and-cheese. "Who goes to beauty school? In the fairy tales, the fairy godmothers actually used magic."

"What if you can't use magic?" The salad really was good. "What do you do then?"

"I dunno. Can't you learn magic?"

I hadn't really thought about. I said as much. "Well, Mary is a fairy… that means she can do magic. I have a magic wand."

"Tools," Rowe said. "Magic tools created for this whole thing. I don't get it sometimes. Most of the time."

"It doesn't make any sense to me. It's like a crack dream."

Rowe suddenly laughed. "Good word to use around the elderly."

"Hey, they already think our conversation is nuts. I would love to use magic. How fun would that be?"

"How pointless. At least it's more logical than beauticians."

Ooh. A challenge. I tried to remember all I had learned from Dolly Parton and Steel Magnolias. But he seemed friendly enough, just on the tactless side. I gave my best glare.

He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. Didn't mean to offend. This is what happens every time I get involved in a conversation with the girls. You all love your beauty stuff. I still don't get it. Didn't you go to college or anything?"

He really had no tact. "I tried it for a little bit. Didn't work out."

"Ah. Not the college type?"

I set my fork down and took a swig of Coke. "I'm not one of those smart girls."

"Really?" He picked up a french fry. "You seem pretty smart. At least no dumber than anyone else."

No one had ever called me smart before. I wasn't sure what to think until I remembered the guy knew absolutely nothing about me. "Rowe, I barely graduated from high school. I tried a little college and couldn't handle that. So I went to something I knew how to do."

"So that's your talent," he said. "Being pretty."

Of course it was, though I wasn't terribly fond of how he said it. "Well, I'm good at it, aren't I? I do all my friends' hair and make-up. Everyone likes what I do."

He didn't seem impressed. "What about that whole natural beauty thing?"

Oh, goodness. The conversation earlier. "No such thing."

"Oh, come on. Are you telling me that a woman had to look like a model to be beautiful?"

"Models are beautiful." I took another bite of salad. Rowe's French fries were looking awfully tasty. "Am I supposed to deny that?"

"Uh…"

"Do you think models are beautiful?"

"I refuse to answer that question, Tansy."

I kept going. "What about ugly woman who don't have any natural beauty? Some people are just ugly. You can't help that, and I don't think they have to keep being ugly just because someone says that natural beauty is the best."

The smallest of smiles crept over his mouth. "You have a point there. Can you really make ugly people beautiful?"

I shoved Cinder from my mind. "Why not? If someone's good enough with a make-up kit, why not? You've seen all those movies. They give the girl a make-over and she is the most beautiful creature on earth and gets to go to the Prom with a jock. It's happily ever after."

"What if a woman doesn't care about beauty?"

I rolled my eyes. "Mr, Rowe Maser. We live in a world obsessed with models, as you pointed out. Besides, no matter what a girl says, every girl likes to feel pretty. And that's what I can do. Make girls feel pretty. Is there anything wrong with that?"

The smile increased. "Well, no."

"Then I guess that conversation is over."

With that Rowe laughed. I really liked his laugh. "Remind me to never argue with a beautician again."