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“No,” Beckett says.
“Ah. You are not married to her?”
“No!” Beckett’s voice rises.
“Ah!” Astrid nods. “You are sure?”
“If I were married to Arianne, I’d remember,” Beckett tells her.
And why am I seeing images of me walking down the aisle in a beautiful flowy princess-like white dress to the soft sound of Pachelbel’s Canon in D to a waiting dashing Beckett Christensen clad in a bespoke tuxedo? I can even hear the church bells. ‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, in the presence of God and these witnesses, to join in matrimony—’
Stop it, girl!
You’re losing it!
“Ah.” Astrid’s go-to word pulls me out of my reverie. She types like a mad woman on her keyboard. “Hmmm…” She’s not as certain as she was a few minutes ago. “You are not Berg Christiansen and Arielle Bohannon-Christiansen?”
“I’m afraid you have us confused,” Beckett says.
“Ah.” I’m starting to understand when she says that, it’s a precursor to bad news. Astrid frowns before typing on her computer some more. She’s sweating bullets.
“The Lindelglück Gasthaus does make mistakes after all,” Beckett says.
Astrid glances up, smoothes her hair, gathers the front of her blouse, and fans herself as if the temperature in the room is unbearable.
She goes back to her research, her fingers flying on the keyboard.
It’s pretty comical to watch.
“We’re not in your system?” Beckett asks.
She types more feverishly.
“Ah.” Bad news is coming. “It is a very busy time of year here with the very popular annual Bier und Käse Fest.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“The beer and cheese pairing festival. People come from all over the country,” she tells me.
“What does that mean for us?” Beckett asks.
“This is not the big city, sir,” she says. “I see here you have a last-minute reservation.”
“So?” Beckett says.
“We have you as coming tomorrow,” Astrid says.
“That’s not possible,” Beckett says. “My executive assistant is on top of things. Are you saying we have a gala in a few hours and nowhere to shower or change?”
“We will accommodate you, sir,” Astrid says. “It is just that… we only have three rooms left. The nuptial suite—”
“We’re not married!”
“Yes, yes, sir!” Astrid nods. “The only accommodation we have left is the Familienhöhle.”
I knit my eyebrows. “The what?”
“The Familienhöhle offers a stunning view of the area—”
