Never Can Tell

By Doris Stenschke

Never can tell.

The beautiful Sarah Cummings is an independent certified accountant. She has two sons from a previous marriage. After she was divorced and single again, her dormant wits renewed themselves, and she had built a new life for herself. She is obsessed with the handsome stranger who recently moved in to the house across the street from where she lives.

He is Daniel Spenser, the son of the deceased billionaire James Spenser, whose untimely death left Daniel overwhelmed and filled with sorrow. In reality, he is now the billionaire--the owner of the firm. He is loved, respected, and protected by his father's entourage. And in order to fit the self to its sphere, Daniel realizes that rest is the thing he needs. Joe Sellers, his colleague, handed him the keys to the vacant house where he retreated with his dog, Rover, his Harley Davidson bike, and his Camino.

Here he met the beautiful Sarah Cummings. A sense of kinship began the first day he saw her.

It deepened. He proposed to her on their first date. Who is this handsome, kempt stranger?

Sarah's feelings for him run deep. In her heart, she wants to be a part of his world and have him become a part of hers.

She had to sheath her inner feeling and let fate

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9781662476198

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Never Can Tell

Doris Stenschke

Copyright © 2022 Doris Stenschke

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2022

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 978-1-6624-7618-1 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-7619-8 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Epilogue

About the Author

To my grandchildren—Anthony, Marissa and Tyrone

Acknowledgments

My thanks to my uncle Norman for the title. Never Can Tell was his nom de plume for Irish sweepstakes tickets a long time in the past.

Many thanks to Chris Robles, who undertook the task of typing my scripted manuscript.

Thanks to my publisher.

And finally, thanks to the universe.

Chapter 1

There stood the man at the entrance of one of San Francisco's most frequented cafés.

He was a tall, wholesome, inscrutable figure and Sarah Cumming's magnificent obsession. Her heart did a slow burn.

He was the newcomer who lived in the three-bedroom house across the street where she lived. He drove a silver Camino and rode a black Harley.

She'd never met him face-to-face, nor had she talked to him. But she'd watch him come and go at different times. They even worked out at the same gym.

For weeks, she'd watched his movements: swift, full of grace and virility. His long sturdy legs propelled him around the circle in slow trots. His dark eyes held a secret expression kindled with a sort of passionate beauty. Occasionally, his hands—beautiful, long fingered, and strong—reached up to his face to brush away the damp, unruly hairs from his ruggedly handsome face.

She took in his attractive, tempting male physique.

Oftentimes she'd wish she could muster up the courage to knock on his door. And say what, Hi! I'm your neighbor, Sarah Cummings. How do you do? I…I brought you some apricots from my garden. Welcome to our neighborhood?

No, no. Shaking her head, her jet-black hair flowed from a center part. Her exotic high cheekbones sat on a delicate face with a square chin and wide mouth, which was a little too weak to speak when she opened it.

She stared blankly out her bedroom window, looking, her eyes filled with a hopeful longing.

What was this life? Though full of cares, one had no time to stand and stare, listen and watch, and wait for one's magnificent obsession to come to view. She mused, Oh, to be a cowgirl! She'd certainly wield her rope.

But what if he didn't know she existed? Was she his type? Why would he be interested in a thirty-year-old old-fashioned single mom with two boys?

Never can tell!

Today he was wearing a black suit, a black tie, dark eyeglasses, and black shoes. A swath of black hair fell casually on his forehead. He looked like he was going to a funeral, coming from a funeral, or honoring Adolph Hitler's birthday.

It was a beautiful autumn day. She'd never seen him attired in this fashion before. But she recognized him instantly.

Lord, help me, Jesus! I can't walk past this magnet today. I know how I feel, Sarah muttered. So help me, Jesus. Please.

Her friend who was accompanying her to lunch at the café sensed her sudden uneasiness.

What's the matter, Sarah? Jessica asked. Are you all right?

No, Jess. My magnificent obsession is here.

The man you've been raving about?

Yes.

Where? Where is he? Jessica asked, overflowing with excitement.

Sarah motioned with her head and eyes. He's standing over there at the entrance of the café.

The man in black?

Yes. Come, let's do the other entrance, Sarah said, grabbing Jessica's arm.

Ouch! Let go! You are hurting me!

Sorry, my friend. But I can't walk past him. This way, Jess! Please. I beg of you. You've really got to do what I say.

You are absolutely ridiculous. He is a mere figure, a man in black that's standing there, minding his own business, not thinking or even looking our way.

But he is a magnet. His mere presence is overpowering, Sarah said.

They entered the café. It was crowded. They looked around for a vacant table—none.

Ah! A table for four was occupied by two: a woman and a man. They were having tea and crumpets. British, I suppose, Sarah said. Let's join them, Jessica!

No, Sarah. We can't do that.

Watch me, Jessica.

Without giving it a thought, Sarah grabbed Jessica's arm and pulled her with her to the table.

May we join you? Sarah asked pleasantly. We just would like to sit until there is a free table.

The man swallowed his tea and cleared his throat. Sure, he said, nodding his head. He stood up and waited for them to sit. Then he sat. The British often do that, Sarah thought. They are well-mannered people. The lady smiled and sipped her tea.

Thanks. It's nice of you to allow us to sit with you, Sarah said.

My pleasure, the gentleman said. Are you from these parts? he asked.

Yes, and you?

London, England. But San Diego is my home presently.

San Diego! I spent some time there a year ago. Surfside 6, Sarah said.

Yes, yes, I know that place. The owners are from New York, the man said, nodding.

You are right. Nice lady, the owner's wife. I saw my first sand dollar there, Sarah reminisced.

Beautiful, aren't they? the gentleman remarked, sipping his last drop of tea.

Your tea cup is empty, Sarah observed. She picked up the teapot. May I pour you some more tea? Sarah asked.

A look of I'm enjoying this crossed the gentleman's face. Yes, please, he said.

Oops, Sarah said, only half a cup left. Sorry.

They all laughed.

Look! Jessica announced happily. A vacant table. Let's grab it!

Nice meeting you, they said as they hurriedly left to secure their seats. The gentleman looked disappointed, and the lady, relieved.

Perfect. Here comes the waiter. Let's order. What do you want? I'm paying, Sarah said.

Scanning the menu, Jessica ordered beef barley soup, a roast-beef sandwich, a garden salad, and water. Coffee too.

Sounds good to me. I'll have the same, Sarah agreed.

Dessert? the waiter asked.

Later, please, they said.

Would you like your coffee now?

Yes, thank you.

Cream and sugar?

Yes, thank you.

Sarah took a mouthful of her coffee and swallowed it. Very good coffee, she said.

I agree, Jessica said.

How do you do it? she questioned with a look of wonder in her eyes.

Do what?

One minute, you are raving about the magnet. Another minute, you can't walk past him. Another minute, you are intruding on people's space. And another minute, you are happily sipping coffee. What's your recipe, girlfriend? Are you ignoring the fact that the magnet may still be here somewhere?"

Sarah swallowed hard. I don't know. Maybe I'm just trying to ease the tension. My intrusion on the British's space was just a distraction, Jessica. You don't know what it's like to watch someone you are obsessed with come and go every day. He's probably standing outside, waiting for his date, she said matter-of-factly. An odd tinge of disappointment warped her senses. She sighed and leaned back in her chair.

Jessica surveyed her kindly.

Disappointed? Are you? she asked.

Dunno. Maybe

Oh, Sarah! You have yet to meet the guy. Only then can you tell how you feel about him. Nothing will happen until then. Not knowing is agonizing. You don't even know the man's name.

The waiter brought them their lunch.

Let's eat! Sarah said abruptly.

So you don't want to talk about your nameless man now?

No, yes, but…but like you said, I don't know his name, Jess. And you are absolutely right, a stammering Sarah said. Calling him magnet won't cut it. I'll have to find out what his name is and take it from there.

Okay, the subject is closed during lunch, Sarah. To be continued—

After lunch, Sarah acquiesced.

* * *

Lunch was enjoyable, totally. Let's have dessert. I'm full, Sarah said, but I can't pass up the New York cheesecake, Jess.

Umm, I am full too. But let me see…I am going to have, er…something very special, the man in black, Jessica said. Her eyes focused on the magnet.

Don't be silly.

I'm not, Sarah. He just walked in with a blond bombshell on his arm, also in black.

Tell me that you are kidding.

No! I kid you not. He's sitting two tables to the left.

Got you.

Sarah discreetly positioned herself in order to gaze at this profile.

The handsome man in a black suit projected an energy and power that invariably attracted her to him. She could not tear her gaze from his profile. He was indeed a magnet.

I've got to get out of here. Let's leave now, Jess! she emphasized.

No, not now, Sarah, not until I am quenched. He is the bomb, the absolute bomb. Jessica did a deep indraw and let it out slowly. Oh, that feels so good, so very good, she repeated.

You are outrageous, Jess, Sarah said dreamily.

No, I'm not. I'm only expressing innermost feelings that you've been suppressing for weeks, Sarah. Now I can really see why you call him your magnificent obsession or magnet.

Can you?

Yes, I can.

The woman, she's beautiful. What if she is his wife?

Shrugging her shoulders, Jessica said, You'll have to cross that bridge when you get to it or back off.

Ouch! That hurts.

I'm sure it does. Do you think he recognized you?

If he does, he's not showing it. He hasn't turned his head once since he came in.

You are right. He hasn't looked this way at all. The woman has his undivided attention. Her tired, sad countenance and the constant dabbing of her eyes, trying to keep her tears in check, showed that she has suffered an acute loss, Sarah reasoned. Look at the two of them! Both of them are wearing black, she added.

His strong hands reached out to steady her trembling fingers as she grappled with her coffee cup. He bent forward and spoke to her in an inaudible whisper. She nodded back at him without speaking.

She may be his significant other, Jessica said.

Watching them was getting to be too much for Sarah to bear. Let's leave! I think my guitar-playing neighbor, Saul, may have the answer to my questions. He minds everybody else's business but his own.

There you go.

Sarah got up.

What about your New York cheesecake?

Some other time. I'm too full right now.

Okay, let's go!

As they were leaving, the man swung his head around to look at them, Sarah envisioned. Or was it a figment of her imagination? Did he recognize her? Perhaps.

Sarah bade Jessica adieu and promised to keep in touch with her.

Saul, the guitar-playing man, was playing It's Five O'Clock Somewhere when she pulled up in her driveway.

Smiling, she listened. She liked that song. He sure can make a guitar talk, she muttered. Catch you later, Saul. You may just be the man with the answers. Yeah, she said, nodding her head to the beat. It's five o'clock somewhere.

Sarah wasn't particularly happy with the day's occurrence, but she whistled a happy tune and relaxed for a long time, not doing anything. Then she changed into a pair of Girbaud blue jeans, a black leather jacket, and Harley Davidson low-cut boots; undid here ponytail; and shook her hair loose. And grabbing her handbag and dark glasses, she left the house.

She needed a few items from the grocery store for supper and breakfast in the morning.

As she was getting into her burnt-orange Subaru, Saul, her guitar-playing neighbor, came walking by.

Hey, beautiful! What's your mission? Going to meet a fella? he asked.

Saul