“Georgie, it will be perfect because it’s us,” Jordan answered, but she could see the worry in his gaze.
The wedding crazy train had left the station, and he was just as unsure as she was as to what could lie ahead.
“Hold on,” Jordan said.
Nonchalantly, he sauntered over to the pastry table, bypassed the god-awful pineapple, piled a plate with gourmet doughnuts, then returned like a triumphant explorer.
“Here, eat one of these. We don’t do diets in More Than Just a Number. We’ll stay true to ourselves. We’re mindful and deliberate. No matter what, we’re us.”
She nodded. “Us, okay,” she answered, taking the chocolate sprinkled treat when her mother materialized like the undercover pastry police.
“Pumpkin, no! Think of the wedding photos!” the woman said, knocking the sweet treat from her hand, then froze as the doughnut fell to the polished parquet floor with a sugary thud.
“Is that who I think it is?” Hector said, swooping in alongside Lorraine.
“I’d put out feelers, but the woman is like a ghost,” her mother answered, staring at the entrance to the ballroom.
Hector pressed his hand to his chest. “I’d called a few people, too. She’s an enigma. I’ve heard she has people scrape all her photos from the internet.”
Lorraine shook her head. “I think it’s her! She’s a bona fide legend! She doesn’t even advertise, and word on the street is she’s booked out seven years.”
“Lorraine Vanderdinkle, it appears the bling is here, at your party,” Hector said like the Queen of England had wandered into the room.
The bling? Did her mother hire a rapper to perform? It didn’t seem her speed.
Georgie waved her hands in front of Hector and her mother’s faces. “Hey, what are you two talking about?”
“Me, Cornelia Lieblingsschatz,” answered a husky voice with a thick German accent.
With a shock of white hair cut in an asymmetrical bob and dressed in all black with skin-tight leather pants and stiletto boots, Cornelia Lieblingsschatz was a cross between a dominatrix and a hot grandma.
“And you are?” Jordan asked.
“The wedding frau,” her mother exclaimed in a frantic whisper, then curtsied—actually curtsied.
“We’d heard the rumors. We know of your power,” Hector added with a deep bow.
“Is this a joke?” Jordan asked under his breath.
Georgie chewed her lip. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knew she’d heard of this woman. But she couldn’t put her finger on how she knew of her.
“I am no joke,” the frau answered, then held out her hand.
A young woman materialized out of the crowd and reverently placed a leather-bound notebook on the woman’s waiting palm. She opened the thick book and stared at the hidden contents.
Georgie glanced at her mother and Hector, clutching each other like two tweens at a Justin Bieber concert while Bobby chuckled.
“You are Georgiana Jensen, and you are Jordan Marks,” the woman said without looking up.
Georgie shared a look with Jordan. “Yes, we are.”
“Why is your engagement ring on the wrong finger?” the woman questioned sharply.
Georgie held up her hand. “It’s a little too big. We’re going to have it resized.”
“Leave that to me,” she answered as the young woman materialized again and slipped the ring off her finger like a pickpocket wedding nymph.
“Wait!” Georgie began when the wedding frau cleared her throat.
“You are a size five and a half, Miss Jensen. That ring is six and a quarter,” she said, gaze still trained on her notebook.
“How would you know that without measuring the ring or even looking at Georgie’s hand?” Jordan asked.
“Like your friend Hector Garcia said. I am Cornelia Lie-blings-schatz, known to many as the wedding frau,” she replied, blinging up the bling in her last name. “When it comes to nuptials in Denver, I know everything.”
“Everything?” Jordan echoed.
“Everything,” the woman replied as Howard appeared and nodded to the woman.
Georgie glanced between the two, but her stepfather quickly melted into the crowd.
“That’s quite a claim, ma’am! Do you have any data to back that up?” Jordan replied.
Georgie shook her head. There was no time to worry about Howard.
The corners of the frau’s mouth curled. “Miss Jensen would prefer a simple, romantic wedding outdoors at the Botanic Gardens. But not a summer wedding! No, you love Colorado in the fall. You picture lights twinkling in the trees as you promise to love and honor each other.”
Georgie’s literary trifecta gasped.
“How do you know that?” she asked.
She’d never told anyone about her wedding day fantasy—not even Jordan.
He turned to her, mouth hanging open. “Is she right?”
“Yeah,” Georgie answered, feeling like she was in a dream.
The wedding frau pinned Jordan with her crystal blue gaze. “And you, Mr. Marks, you never expected to find the kind of love you have found with Georgiana. You would follow her to the ends of the earth.”
“Jesus!” Jordan gasped.
“No, not Jesus, only Mrs. Lieblingsschatz,” the woman replied with the ghost of a self-assured grin.
“Frau Lieblingsschatz,” her mother said with another curtsey. “What happens now?”
The woman closed her leather notebook. “I am offering the couple my services. The offer is on the table for two minutes.”
“We have to decide in two minutes?” Jordan sputtered.
The wedding frau nodded.
“But know this, once you commit, you must follow all my instructions. I will be in the lobby awaiting your answer,” she replied, then turned on her stiletto heel and left the ballroom.
Holy wedding ultimatum!
Georgie turned to Jordan. “What do you think?”
He took her hand and led her over to the milk chocolate fountain. “This lady seems to know what we want, and I don’t think your mom will ever disagree with her.”
Georgie glanced at her mother, who was still suspended in wedding frau shock, clutching Hector’s arm.
“True. If it were up to Lorraine Vanderdinkle, we’d be getting married in some ballroom, probably even pinker and frillier than this.”
He nodded. “With everything on our plate, this wedding planner guru may be just what we need.”
“You’re not worried about having to follow her instructions explicitly?” she pressed.
Jordan shrugged. “It’s a wedding. How many instructions could she have for us? Pick your favorite flower. Fish or chicken. I think we can handle this, Georgie. Plus, her people already took your ring.”
Georgie glanced at her ringless hand and then back to her mother and Hector, standing quietly like good little schoolchildren.
“It would be nice not to have to battle my mother or have CityBeat trying to call the shots,” she agreed.
He held her gaze. “So, we’re a unified yes.”
Georgie nodded. “Yes.”
They left the Pepto-pink ballroom and found the wedding frau standing in the lobby, jotting in her notebook.
“Frau Lieblingsschatz, we’d like to accept your offer,” Jordan announced.