Chapter 24
The poppy flower: A flower of eternal sleep, a narcotic to the wounded soul, a remembrance of the fallen soldier. –DB
5 November, 1940 - Los Angeles, California
“This dress is perfect for Erica Evans.” Danielle swirled a crimson-red dress around, her nerves fluttering along with it. The neckline dipped to a low V in front, and an even lower V in the back.
Lou Silverman leaned back in his chair at his desk, his hands steepled, the city view behind him. “Knowing Erica, she’d want the neckline even lower.” He waved a hand to the rack Danielle had wheeled in, the clothes forming a Technicolor rainbow. “These samples speak for themselves. But can you produce to a deadline?”
“Of course, I have a dedicated staff.” Danielle swallowed hard, and thought about Anna’s teenage daughter,
