Christopher Manning: Sentimental Journey

By Arlene M. McKeon

Sara was livid that her computer had failed. She had completely lost Christopher Manning and all his information from her Internet files. A regular subscriber to the Internet server her brother owned, Sara could not post Mannings regular monthly eleven-dollar payment without it totally disappearing before her eyes. When Manning received a bill for 1.1 million dollars, he had to come into her office to clear the matter up. She was attracted to a man for the first time in many years and was devastated when she realized that he was an investigator for the attorney generals office and that that whole thing was set up to get close to her files because she was suspected of computer identity left.

Sara would lose much. Her best friend was murdered, another friend was arrested in error, and of course, there was that attraction that quickly turned to love that she knew was impossible. Manning simply took the physical attraction for granted, and for some reason, she went along for the ride.

Together they solved the crime and got married. That was when the fun began. Sara discovered her perfect man loved to dance, loved the oldies she played on her piano, and adored shopping. Imagine that, if you will. Christopher Manning turned out to be that perfect man, and they continued to do what they did bestmake love and dance. Between them, they found a way to make a living, opening a dance club for those who loved to do ballroom dancing. It was the real McCoy, the real ballroom dancing, not exhibition style.

There is a new adventure for them both as they learn about each other. Singing? Who would have thought?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9781524675561

Arlene M. McKeon

Arlene M. McKeon has been publisher, editor and reporter for forty years before attempting to write fiction. She started her first novel at the age of sixteen, but over the years life took over and no more “made up” stories were allowed in her work. Now, in Christoper Manning - Sentimental Journey she had invented the perfect man. After being married to her first love for 56 years she feels qualified; her husband was not perfect, and truthfully she explained that she had never actually met a perfect man. With a sense of humor her books start with love and marriage and generally the first year or so of married life. “Sentimental Journey”, however is number one of nine book series and she spends her time now, editing what she wrote. She also has seven other novels with different stories but all that starts with marriage early in the game. She still says that the first ten years of marriage is the hardest. She and her late husband raised seven children, have twenty-two grandchildren so when it comes to marriage and raising a family she could only wish her’s were as perfect as Christopher Manning’s.

Book preview

© 2017 Arlene M. McKeon. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 03/10/2017

ISBN: 978-1-5246-7556-1 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Dedication

Introduction to Sentimental Journey

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

DEDICATION

It is important that Tracey Maureen Killarney received my sincere thanks for giving this manuscript a bit of polish. Refusing all credit, all I can do is dedicate this work to her—with all my gratitude.

INTRODUCTION TO SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY

Even before meeting face to face for the first time, it is inevitable that Sara and Christopher will be for always.

He, one of four brothers, never dated a woman more than 3 times by an agreement they made as boys. Christopher filled his life with education and helping wherever he could, even after he became estranged from his own family due to differences in opinion. They wanted him to be an attorney like them; his father, his grandfather and all the way back to the beginning of time it seemed. He in turn had other interests, so he was disowned and left to travel to Michigan to live with his maternal grandmother. This was handy to Michigan State University and later, after degrees in law enforcement, psychology, pre-law (yes he did pass the bar,) he found employment with the Attorney General›s office as an investigator.

Sara, on the other hand, was forced to earn her own way through college with her talent for music, and she found work playing in a pub with a blinking sign in front saying «›red›s.» It blinked because it had been out of order for years; the original sign said «Fred›s» but the large F stopped working and Fred was long gone and had sold out to Thelma. Thelma was an older, single woman who took care of the obviously too young to drink young piano player in her lounge. She heard Sara singing one day and urged her to add words to the retro music she played, and soon had Sara dressing as a lounge singer would have during the late 1930’s or early 1940’s. Sara was a hit and often made as much as $500 on a good Saturday. It was enough to pay her tuition, and to buy her books and clothing. Of course the clothing was cheap enough when she visited every second hand clothing and thrift shop in town. It was only when her older brother walked into the pub one night with friends and saw her all gussied up like a tramp. After he dragged her home to their mother, that is when things fell apart for Sara. She ended up working for her brother in his computer Internet business that she…well, so goes the tale.

They never got to that third date before his mind was made up. They live through murder and betrayal; love and honesty; trust and distrust and lots of music. He came to realize that Sara knew the words to almost every old song written and even thought in music. He in turn had become a guitarist on his own, and could have made a career out of playing classical guitar had he even thought about it. How, he could either fight her or join her.

This is book one of what will be a ten book series documenting the lives of some very interesting people; some in show business; some in police business, some in family business; and some just in funny business. Lot of murder and mayhem, explosions, plane crashes, injuries and death, but also lots of fun and entertainment. Join us for Book 2, Malice Toward Some coming up soon in your e-publications.

While these books take place in Lansing, Michigan, nothing in the book is actually in Lansing. Every building, business, establishment and road system is totally of my own imagination with the exception of Michigan State University and the hospital. These buildings do exist but not as described by the author of this book. One example being the entrance to the ER from an ambulance to a loading dock directly into a care room, and a second being the courses of study as described taken by or taught by any character in this book. In other words, this is totally a work of fiction.

Because of the speed of technology growth, dates became unimportant in this series. So please, if anyone notices something that was not in existence at a certain time please don’t tell me aboutit. I have a whole family of ITT owners and an IT architect in the family, so things like the two way aspect of a cell phone went out with Nextel and I know this, but if I wanted my characters to use it, they used it anyway.

CHAPTER 1

Christopher Manning virtually vanished. At least as far as Sara Clemens’ computer was concerned. Everything that would identify this man in the records had disappeared from the data base: his address, phones numbers, current financial standing, all of it.

If I had tried to delete an entire record of anyone off my darn computer, I would have had to make at least six deletions in six different places, and then I would still have something hidden somewhere, Sara mumbled half to herself. Stymied, she threw her hands in the air. I give up.

Jeri Lee, her best friend in the adjacent cubicle, stuck her head over the divider between their little sanctums and asked benignly, Having a wee bit of a problem are we?

I’m out of here! Sara proclaimed as she grabbed up her shoulder bag and, offering no other explanation, headed for the door of the office. There were seven other cubicles like Sara’s in her office. Well, maybe not exactly like hers; they all had family photographs tacked onto their pin boards, while she had little sticky reminder notes. They gazed upon sentimental verses while she viewed fingers pointing to passwords, numbers and dates she had to remember. She had spent months just getting used to typing 1992 instead of 1991 for some reason. One of these days she would take time to type these numbers into her Palm Pilot, but not today. Today, she had to find Christopher Manning!

Sara pushed the elevator down button four or five times, as though one push wouldn’t be enough to bring the car to her floor from whatever other floor it may have stopped. When it finally did show up Jeri Lee was right there at her side. Jeri suffered when Sara suffered. That is what best friends do. Sara pushed the button for the basement and during the interminable ride down she muttered to herself until she walked out to the parking lot with Jeri at her heels.

Where are we going, oh great Xena?

Her dear Jeri Lee could always make her laugh. She told Sara once that when she got pissed she glared like Xena. Sara never was sure if that was a compliment or not. Certainly Lucy Lawless was gorgeous whether she is standing up with her hands on her hips or cradling her Chakram. Lucy was an actress and was paid to get angry; Sara was a lowly data entry person. She was only being paid to be responsible for crediting the accounts for all of the people who pay for their Internet service through the company, including Christopher Manning, whomever and wherever he was.

Sara knew he had been in the file because she remembered his name out of the thousands of ISP users in her billing program. She had associated his name with Robin, as in Christopher Robin. He had been in the system for almost a year, and she had been dutifully shooting off invoices every month and punching in payments regularly. She explained all of this to Jeri on their way to the coffee shop, where she intended to bury herself in a cream cheese Danish and a whipped cream topped, double chocolate latte. Unless someone accessed my computer to delete the Manning file, there is no way it could just be gone—poof like that! It is technically impossible! Sara was whining and just couldn’t stop.

Maybe you ought to skip the sugar fix and the double caffeine. Just get yourself a glass of milk. Jeri offered. Sara glared as Jeri’s face lit up with her cute little secret smile. I knew you wouldn’t listen to me; who am I? I’m just your very best friend who knows all of your intimate secrets. You had better be nice to me.

"Can you find Manning?" Sara shot back.

Not a chance, Jeri admitted, but let’s face it, he couldn’t have fallen off the face of the earth. Check the e-mail data. Maybe Craig’s got enough for you to recreate the file.

Craig ran Lansing Multi-Line’s Internet Service Provider’s (ISP) e-mail service, which wasn’t a challenge for him. Craig also handled the chat rooms. He called himself the Master of Chat. Whenever a client had a problem or wanted to change or correct a personal e-mail account Craig was the one to talk with. Craig also monitored and deleted questionable posts on their chat lines and bulletin boards to keep the service family acceptable.

All of their commercial accounts’ employees were offered free e-mail service for their employees as part of their business packages. Therefore, there were many more of those types of account than there were for those who paid for personal Internet accounts like Manning’s.

I already checked out the personal mail box holders and Manning doesn’t use our service for email.

What’s the big deal, then Sara? He is one ten dollar a month Internet account.

I don’t really know why I am upset, Jer, but every time I type his info into the system, it just disappears like that. She snapped her fingers. When I entered his address, the city disappeared as I looked at the screen. I typed it in again and included his last name, she snapped again, blip! It was gone! It’s like a spook or something doesn’t like him and refuses his personal information being accepted.

Well, the worst thing that could happen is that you get hold of this Manning guy, admit you screwed something up and throw yourself on his mercy to create a new account with different data.

Sara gazed at Jeri with fondness and thought, she may seem like a bubblehead, but I don’t see her getting all upset over something as insignificant as a disappearing file.

Sara said, I felt like my mother when we lost one sock of a pair. The searches she would make would disrupt the household for hours. One time, one of her own socks clung to the inside of a pair of her polyester slacks after she took her clothes out of the dryer. She had hung the slacks up in her meticulous fashion, and didn’t find the sock until she was shopping one day and saw it hanging out from underneath her pant cuff as she walked. She reached down, pulled it out and shoved it in her purse, then finished her shopping, delighted that she had solved the mystery of a lost sock.

Jeri laughed and then said, When my little brother left for the service, we cleaned his room with a front end loader. We ended up with two bushels—that is two whole laundry baskets filled with unmatched socks. Jeri was smiling at her friend so brightly that Sara momentarily forgot her missing Christopher Manning file. She realized that her friend was attempting to ease her upset over the frustration going on at work with her computer.

Sara finally asked, What did your Mom do?

Well, we sorted them into clean, not so clean, and no redemption clean; then sorted the few pairs within those categories. I think there were probably a dozen pairs of useable tube socks; you know the kind with different band of color at the top of each pair? Nobody wears them anymore but the rest went into a plastic bag at the landfill, Jeri explained. I can picture an archeologist two thousand years from now, trying to figure out what those things are. No two matching, no shape; you know that plastic bags can last for millennia at least. I wonder if those socks would survive that long.

Jeri made her laugh; what a friend she was. After Sara’s first bite of the Danish and a tentative sip of latte, she had calmed down.

Jeri sat watching Sara across the pub-sized table and sipped on her bottled lime water. She watched her friend with a knowing smile as Sara calmed down after her bursts of anger. Jeri kindly did not think Sara was on her high horse, as her mother would. She knew Sara was not and had never been the kind of woman who felt herself superior to her friends or co-workers, even if she did come from money and never really had to work for a living. Jeri was always comfortable even when Sara seemed to ignore the cost of things. However she wasn’t always comfortable when Sara wasted even a dollar on things like a latte. Jeri saved every dime she could for her expected wedding. She would stop and glance at the small diamond in her engagement ring and remember why she was trying to save her money. She would have to control herself not to be envious of what she never herself had much of: money.

Jeri handled Sara the best of anyone, and Sara knew this. God love her soul, as Sara’s mother was wont to proclaim. God, on top of everything else, now I’m turning into my mother!

So much for getting mad! It doesn’t help a thing. Frustration is for five-year olds, not twenty-five year olds. Sara had the grace to be embarrassed at her own thoughts. She knew that they only had a fifteen-minute coffee break but had some lenience. The good part about their jobs was that work time was flexible. She could deduct the minutes from her lunch hour or make it up after five. She was totally responsible for the data on her computer but punching a time clock was not a prerequisite in their laid-back office. All of the Internet service billing, including the commercial accounts that were only billed once a year, was done from Sara’s computer. Sara had no explanation as to why her brother, e.g. boss, refused to use credit card billing for personal accounts.

The programmers were in the process of creating a new billing program that would also handle accounts receivable, so that a check only had to be handled once, and that a business account could use automatic payments through their business credit card. This would undoubtedly create a new department that her boss, Ward, would need to hire a manager for. Sara didn’t want the job but until that happened, her duties were assigned at a whim from him.

Did you check your backup? Jeri asked innocently.

Of course, I checked backup.

No, I mean the backup from, say six months ago, on those tapes Ward insists everyone keep of their work.

Sara looked at her blankly but had to admit that she hadn’t even thought of those tapes! She was too upset to even look for the tapes. She bought herself a bottle of water, dropped what was left of the Danish and latte into the receptacle at the door and they went back to the office. Thanks, Jer, as usual you saved my skin.

Someone has to be calm and today it isn’t you, Jeri Lee muttered softly. Probably hoping Sara wouldn’t hear, she added, And you spent almost seven-fifty for a coffee break and then you throw it away.

I know I’m extravagant, Jeri, but I don’t have anyone to spend my money on but me—I’m not saving for a wedding like you are.

Jeri studied her friend before they got into the car and thought carefully about her next words as she took her seat in the passenger side of the car. You could be, Sara. Heavens knows you have had opportunities. I know! You’re waiting for the perfect man.

Sara turned the key in the ignition, glancing sideways at her dearest friend. Not the perfect man, Jer. I guess I’d rather not have marriage at all unless— She hesitated before agreeing, Well, maybe you’re right.

I’d like to know where you expect to find your dream man, Sara. That’s all.

I don’t know, Jer, Sara replied with a little grin, but when I see him, I’ll know him.

Yeah, right. That is if somebody else hasn’t seen him first.

Sara was quiet for the rest of the ride back to the office. Silently, she was thinking, or more accurately singing to herself, you’re nobody til somebody loves you; you’re nobody til somebody cares—Sara Clemens tended to think in song lyrics.

CHAPTER 2

Sara had not been back at her desk more than ten minutes when the receptionist summoned her with Hi, Sara, on the landline, there’s a man here to see you.

Who is it?

I think he will wait to see you personally.

Is he standing right there?

Yes, Miss Clemens. I will tell him you are on your way.

Miss Clemens?

More curious than worried, Sara checked her skirt and it was in place and hadn’t twisted. There were no runs in her nylons. Her little mirror on the inside wall allowed her to touchup her lipstick. After shaking her hair out with her fingertips she pushed the one errant strand back where it belonged, slipped on her suit jacket and walked up front.

Standing at the counter was the most handsome man Sara had ever seen. Sara wasn’t usually man conscience and had often said she would undoubtedly die alone and single. She thought this guy could make me reconsider! He was tall. Well not too tall, she noticed as she got closer, but his presence consumed the room. She saw that he wasn’t more than an inch or so taller than her, and she was five ten in her high heels. His face was right out of a fashion advertisement; just too perfect. Sara almost stopped in her tracks when his gaze met hers. A little smile played on his lips and one eyebrow was raised a little higher than the other. He was watching her as she glided toward him. He looked perplexed while he stared at her face.

Are you Sara Clemens? he asked as politely as he could in the instant state of mutual astonishment he felt running through him. He thought her eyes were incredible and he could swear she didn’t have even a touch of cosmetics on her lashes. Her eye color alone was mesmerizing without the need for makeup.

Sara thought she heard a slight east coast accent, but then reconsidered that idea. Yes. What can I do to help you? Oh, please let me help you! Her mouth felt dry and a very unfamiliar clench in her belly had about stopped her in her tracks.

I received a bill. He paused pointing out her name as account manager that appeared under the company name. You are the Account Manager of Services?

Yes, I am. She tried not to stare, so looked quickly down at the paper he was holding in his hand.

Then can you tell me why, after I just sent in a check for my monthly subscription to your Internet service, I received a bill for $1,011,111? On the top of the invoice Sara saw the words: Bill to: Christopher Manning

She swallowed hard and then she smiled. Her eyes met his. Here he is—my missing Christopher Manning.

He was bewildered that she smiled or maybe just because of her smile. Her eyes seemed to change color as he watched her and he found this enchanting.

He forced air out as he repeated himself. Please explain this. It came out sounding a little irritated.

Well, why don’t you come back to my desk and I think I can show you.

"Look, Ms. Clemens, I don’t actually use computers in my work. I have a secretary to do most of my typing, but occasionally I do some on-line research at home. I don’t think you showing anything to me on your computer will answer my question because it is unlikely I would understand anything you said about it."

Sara glanced at the receptionist who was stifling a laugh at Sara’s expense. She was deliberately not looking at them. Sara motioned her missing client over to a couch. She sat on the edge of the sofa next to him, back erect, as she held her hand out for the bill. Can I have this? Or allow me to make a copy. she asked. Truthfully, I have no explanation at all. All I know is that I have your check sitting next to my computer right now. We have not deposited it because I can’t find you.

What do you mean you can’t find me?

Before we write up the deposit slips for the day, I post the payment into my computer. Your entry was not accepted. My computer kept saying that I couldn’t open the page, so I checked in the cross-index files for your account number which wasn’t there, nor was it in any of the computer postings for the past two years that are still on my computer. I tried your telephone number, address, everything. You have disappeared. The weirdest thing is that every time I type any part of your identity into the computer it will disappear before I hit enter. Why the computer spit out a bill for over a million dollars, I haven’t a clue!

He sat back on the couch, crossed his legs and just looked at her. Stared at her would be a better description. My God, look at her eyes! Incredible color. Well, that’s refreshing anyway.

What is?

You aren’t making any excuses and you are not apologizing either.

What else can I say? It stands to reason that this didn’t happen deliberately but am I sorry that you had to come down here? She paused, contemplating her last sentence. Yes, I guess I really am sorry. On the other hand, it has been a pleasure to meet you. An hour ago I was forced into a double chocolate latte and a Danish because I was so upset I’d lost you. Sara stopped, embarrassed, "Wait! I didn’t mean I’d lost you, I mean you disappeared from my computer. This is an eye opening experience and I will be one relieved person when we learn what happened." Sara smiled at him again because this time it struck her as funny. Her eyes were shiny with the mirth she was trying to contain. He was sitting right here after all. He wasn’t lost.

Wow, a double chocolate latte? That is pretty upset, I’d say, he responded with a small smile. My Lord, she is going to laugh! He thought inanely. He was mesmerized by her humored gaze.

Then Sara did laugh. When he lightened up he presented a whole different face. In fact, Sara thought, he appears to be enjoying how uncomfortable I feel. What?

The thing is, Mr. Manning, I can use the information on this invoice to correct your data if I can find it in the old tapes, or you can fill out the paperwork again. Whatever you prefer. Does any of the information that we have need to be changed? Have you moved, or married and want to add another name?

No, I am still single, working full time at a job I find I dislike more each minute, and going to school.

What are you studying?

I am working toward my doctorate in criminal psychology. That is why I have a computer now at home. I work within limited bounds because of my lack of technical knowledge and haven’t a clue how the computer works. It just has to work, you know, like driving a car. I don’t need to know how the engine works to turn a key.

That’s a pretty focused viewpoint, she said.

It probably is but when I start research reading and sit for hours, studying hundreds of pages of information on-line, I get a little cross eyed. He paused for a moment, Actually I have two computers: one for research, which is the one I use your service for, and one that I type my notes and documents on.

She understood what he meant even if he didn’t realize that you don’t type on your computer but on your computer’s keyboard. She carefully controlled her smile, but her eyes were definitely not cooperating. Finally she asked, Are your computers networked?

What?

Networked. Can you copy from one and save it in the other one?

I haven’t a clue. I just read data on one, and type my work on the other. I don’t copy verbatim. Too wordy.

Oh!

He got up and offered his hand. Well, thank you very much for your help. I’m sure this will be taken care of now that you know about the problem. He looked at her a bit shyly now, as she took his hand. It felt warm. He seemed to hold hers a few seconds too long.

After he left, Sara just sat there staring at the invoice. The receptionist was grinning at her with a knowing expression. She had heard the exchange and was interested in Sara’s obvious discomfort. Good looking, isn’t he?

Sara stood, but didn’t respond. You stepped out of a dream. You’re too wonderful to be what you seem. She shivered a little.

When she returned to her desk she searched the taped backups from the month before, transferred the data, posted the payment and it immediately disappeared from the screen. She attempted to locate the original of the invoice she held in her hand. If it was sent it had to be in this thing somewhere. I’ll be darn if I can find it. Maybe this bill didn’t originate in my computer at all, or maybe it got caught up in the deletions.

Finally she took the bill and the story to her boss, which is the last thing she would want to do if she was thinking rationally. He was her older brother and wouldn’t hold back. What do you mean you lost him? He didn’t quite scream, but almost.

It disappears from my computer! And I don’t know how or why. Three times I’ve typed the data in again and three times it is gone before I can hit save. To make matters worse I cannot find this in my computer anywhere.

He looked at the invoice and then looked up at her. What day did you do invoices?

The last working day of the month, like always.

Was there a stub mailed back to you with that check?

All I have is the check but customers often mail in a check without the stub. Sometimes they actually pay the bill before it has even been mailed. Many people just write checks one day a month and simply jot their account number along the top of the check. It doesn’t really matter does it?

So, after he paid the bill, he gets this bill in the mail?

It looks like it.

Well… he was thinking out loud and paused. She didn’t want to interrupt his train of thought, so she sat quietly waiting. I’m really glad this isn’t a commercial account. But, in this case, there isn’t much harm done, is there? So what happened this time that could have been different? He paused, considering, "One of two things, or God forbid both happened. One: you hit delete instead of enter, or Two: you dropped something on your keyboard, or something was pushing on the keys and generated the extra ones on the invoice you intended to send. Better than that it likely happened just as you were hitting the enter key to send it to the printer. Quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?"

I don’t remember anything happening in my cubicle that would account for that. I don’t drop things on my keyboard, but maybe a notebook or something… She remembered a pile of letters that she had to sign was sitting on the slanted part of her computer desk, and she remembered picking them up. Oh, No! I did this myself? Okay, no harm done then. I have apologized for any inconvenience and I will certainly never do anything like this again. I managed to recreate his account, but…

I should hope not! He interrupted and she was dismissed from his office, just like that.

I love you too, Bro.

Sara didn’t get a chance to complete her thought. She had managed to recreate Christopher Manning’s account by simply adding (2) after his name. She noticed in the copious taped backups that he worked at the Attorney General’s Office. She thought is that his hated job? Is he an attorney?

41266.png

A few days later, Sara was called back into the boss’s office and asked to cover Craig’s job for a few