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was Edward Frizz and Brandi Heinly, one of Bridgett’s friends from high school. They were all part of the beautiful and bold to which Ginger had no admittance.
    Since no one saw her, should she just walk in? Hey y’all? The aroma of roast beef and something cheesy whetted her appetite. She’d snatched a slice of cold pizza for breakfast but had eaten nothing since.
    But first, she needed to connect with Bridgett, let her know she’d arrived. Then beginning tomorrow morning, she’d start washing and setting hair for the mothers at nine o’clock.
    Ginger inched across the room, arms stiff at her sides. “Bridgett, hey, I’m here.”
    “Ginger!” A beaming and bright Bridgett wrapped her in a happy hug and walked her to the center of the room. “Girls, this is Ginger Winters, the one I was telling you about, Miss Marvelous. Her straight iron is a magic wand.”
    Ginger smiled and waved toward the women on the sofa. “Nice to see y’all.”
    One of the women rose up on her knees, leaning on the back of the sofa. “Did you really tour with Tracie Blue?”
    “I did, yes. Three years.” One lingering benefit of working for a superstar? A great conversation piece.
    “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it. She is my favorite singer.” This from Sarah Alvarez, another bridesmaid and Rosebud High alum. “How exciting. What dirt can you give us on her?” Sarah wiggled her eyebrows as she joined the other women on the sofa.
    “None I’m afraid. I signed a confidentiality agreement. She could sue me for more money than I’ll make in three lifetimes.”
    Sarah made a face, shrugged and turned away, rejoining the conversation around the fire.
    “Never mind her,” Bridgett said, slipping her arm through Ginger’s. Her burned one, but she didn’t pull free. Her sweater was thick enough to hide the scars. And Bridgett wasn’t holding on too tight. “Come over here. You remember my handsome groom, Eric.”
    He glanced around, pulling away from SportsCenter long enough for a, “Nice to see you again.”
    “You remember Edward and oh, look, there’s Tom Wells—”
    Ginger pulled away from Bridgett as Tom entered through a doorway across the room. A low, creeping shiver started in her bones. “H-hello everyone.” She tried for a sweeping glance past the men but her gaze clashed with Tom’s.
    He watched her with those blue fireballs he used for eyes. One look and she felt engulfed, aching to be with him.
    He terrified her more than the man-made flames across the room. Those flames she understood and could avoid. Butthe kind Tom Wells ignited seemed impossible to predict, avert, or extinguish.
    “So, that’s everyone,” Bridgett said. “Help yourself to the buffet. There’s wine and beer, but if you don’t drink, the fridge is full of water, soda, and tea. We’re just hanging out, talking wedding. Can you believe I’m getting married?” Bridgett squeezed Ginger’s arm, giggling, effervescing.
    “I’m happy for you.” Ginger smoothed her hand down her sweater, tugging at the end of the sleeve to make sure her scarred hand was covered. “It’s exciting. Rosebud High’s prom king and queen and most likely to marry . . .”
    “I know, what are the odds? We’re actually getting married. After eight years apart I never thought I’d see him again, let alone marry him.” Bridgett leaned over the chair where Eric sat, roping him in her arms, and kissed his cheek. “But, well, love’s arrow doesn’t miss, does it?”
    Oh yeah it does. By a county mile.
    “So . . .” Bridgett turned around with a clap of her hands. “Fill your plate and join us girls on the sofa. We can talk hair.”
    Ginger looked back at the cluster of bridesmaids. By the fire. A sliver of panic cut through her delicate confidence.
    “It’s easier to eat sitting at the counter.” Tom’s bass declaration offered a welcomed truth, drawing Bridgett’s attention.
    “Guess you’re right, Reverend Tom.” Bridgett wrinkled her nose at