Once the champagne is poured and we’ve raised our glasses in a toast, the coordinator pulls me aside to go over some details, while Kat and Nico neck around the side of the flower cooler. Kenji, Trina, and Renee squeal and launch into an impromptu zombie dance-off when Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” plays over the radio, and, most interestingly, Brody follows Grace as she drifts away from the sample floral arrangements and starts to peruse the display of glass and ceramic vases along the wall.
Musicians might not be her thing, but it certainly looks to me as if redheads are his thing. I try to remember if they’ve met before . . . maybe at the House of Blues party last year? Or on Memorial Day? I make a mental note to ask her about it later.
Jennifer and I finish our talk, and rejoin the re
