“Ooo, I like that one, Danielle,” cooed Nadia, pointing to one of Jean Claude’s sketches of dresses for Danielle. The designer who’d made Danielle’s ball gown had drawn up several wedding gowns for them to choose from. Moving one design back to the top of the pile, Brianna disagreed, “I don’t think so. This one says ‘Dannie’ to me. It’s practically calling out her name.” “I still favor the first one,” said Sophia, sifting for the one that was now on the bottom. “I’m just not sure,” mumbled Danielle’s mother, who’d flown in just for this. Her words made Jean Claude’s face turn a deep shade of pink. “Ladies, I know what would look best on our darling Miss Darcey. Please be reasonable,” said Jean Claude, and then turned to her. “Danielle, what do you like?” Finally someone was asking for her opinion. Rubbing the tension from her neck, Danielle tried not to let it show on her face. Having her mother, Sophia, Nadia and Brianna all trying to help her choose a wedding dress from the many sketches was getting frustrating, and a bit daunting.
