“I really appreciate you seeing me, especially so close to Fashion Week."
Sixty-something dark haired Ava Marchant smiled across her ultra-feminine French Country style desk, “You are most welcome, Raven. What an enchanting name. It certainly suits a model."
The surroundings fit almost perfectly with how Raven had been imagining them. Nothing was missing except Ava having a French accent.
There was not much of that in Springfield, Illinois.
Ava liked Raven; there was something strong, yet vulnerable about the young woman; she was friendly and polite, two of Ava's model mandates.
Raven's attention was irresistibly drawn to a single rolling clothes rack holding a small selection of gowns for which adequate adjectives could not be found. “Gorgeous", “stunning", “beautiful" were not adequ
