My husband’s copper-haired head, rising at least three inches above the heads of everyone else in the room, sliced through the parting crowd of well-wishers. He had an aura, a pull about him that made people clear the way, stop, and stare. A brunette bombshell was at his heel. Big, puffy hair, scarlet lips, and generous cleavage. They weren’t walking side by side, but she was chasing him around in a tiny beige cocktail dress and red-soled heels, touching his wrist, her smile triumphant.
