She stands in front of the mirror, her hands sliding down the white satin of her dress. She turns to the side and then lifts her dark hair to the top of her head, imagining it held in place by a romantic knot, a tiara and a veil. Then, sighing, she lets it fall to her shoulders, chestnut coloured tendrils framing her face.      "It's beautiful, Melinda. You look lovely," her stepmother says from behind her.      Melinda sighs again and turns to her. "I just can't decide, Jean. How many dresses have I tried on now?"      "Over a hundred. Make up your mind."       She glances at her half-sister, flopped down in a corner flipping through a bridal magazine, and pretends not to hear her.      Jean throws an exasperated look her daughter's way and then rolls her eyes at Melinda in silent apology. Melinda shrugs and smiles in answer, acting as if Jessica's attitude didn't bother her. She turns and looks again in the mirror. The dress fits her well. 'I do look pretty,' she thinks. 'It's a dress fit for a princess…'      "It's been a long day. We can continue this another time, ok?" she says, interrupting her silent analysis.      Jean puts a hand on Melinda's shoulder. "When the right dress comes along, you'll know it. There won't be a question in your mind. It seems we just haven't found it yet."      Melinda nods, still standing in front of the mirror. Finding a wedding dress was becoming more difficult than she had anticipated. And her wedding day was looming ever closer.