The Christmas Elf, A Secret-Santa Story

Chapter 7 - Open mouth, insert foot

Friday 16 December

Michael O'Leary had not been having a good week. Six months ago he had decided to take over the pub his second-cousin was running, because Johnathan was eloping with his girlfriend and planned to move to the West Coast with her.

Jonathan had inherited the pub from his father and had never gotten into the swing of running it. Most of the older patrons had a sense of loyalty, such that even at the worst of times they still showed up for a pint or two. The regulars, plus the random foot traffic brought in by the nearby shops, kept the pub out of the red. Two years ago, when the first signs of changes in the area became apparent he had thought the pub could continue to operate unchanged.

He had underestimated the changes that the younger and more chic new ages brought with them. As the store and owners above them changed, the kind of foot traffic also changed. A more discerning and pickier buyer became the norm. The regulars weren't as comfortable in this neck of the woods now either and only visited once a week – and that wasn't enough to keep the bar afloat.

Around the same time Michael had been trying to decide what he wanted to do next. The daily grind of corporate law was too much, he felt it consuming him from the inside, one slow case at a time.

One fateful night he was drinking at the bar, catching up with Jonathan and they had hit upon an answer than suited them both. Jonathan would hand over control of the bar to Michael in return for a hefty lump sum and a twenty percent silent interest. Michael would use part of his sizable savings to bring the pub into the new age era that seemed to have taken over.

Michael's overhaul was less of the structure of the place, which was a time-honored classic, and more focused on what the bar offered. He added fancy cocktails with words like elderflower and verbena, revamped the menu to offer vegan and organic options alongside the pub regulars. He did some updating of the interior and the kitchen. The updating allowed him to woo a better chef into joining the staff, one who was versatile enough to manage the traditional offerings and to get creative in the ways the new generation preferred.

His last and most notable change, for the regulars, was to change the name to The Red Fox. They missed the O'Leary from the name but no one could argue that the red fox wasn't Irish and it had the benefit of being a name which seemed to resonate with the younger folk. The logo, a red fox with its chin on its paws and tailed curled around its body, also added to the décor. It looked great on the menu, the uniforms and the business cards.

Everything had been going great since his soft opening. The changes first brought the curious and then as word of mouth began to spread they began to be packed most evenings. People loved the drinks, raved about the food and lapped up the atmosphere.

Then this week, he had one of those weeks. A key supplier was unable to deliver the fresh fruits and vegetables he needed, making him have to hunt around for a replacement. The organic shop helped him out, but for a much steeper price than he would have paid otherwise.

His chief cook came down with a stomach bug and was out of commission, forcing him to make additional changes down the line. The assistant chef stepped up, his assistant became the assistant chef and Michael kept moving people up the chain until he was the one who ended up alone behind the bar. It was either short-staff the bar or the wait staff.

Then the call from the IRS that he had only now returned. They weren't interested in his six months of operations per se, but his erstwhile cousin hadn't done such a good job on the bookkeeping side and now there were questions. Questions that apparently couldn't wait until the New Year.

He had been so angry a short while ago, when he pushed through those doors. Ryan and Sean knew him so well that he hadn't felt any qualms about letting off some steam in front of them. When he realized that he had other customers he had been more than a little embarrassed.

Then he had looked up and seen her. It was a sucker-punch to the gut, that instant sense of recognition. He felt like he had both known her all his life and been waiting his entire life for her.

When she had smiled at him, his insides tightened and he wanted only to hear her voice again. Her friends did most of the talking though and he did his best to be a good host. Yet he couldn't stop his gaze from straying back to her.

He noted the way they all deferred to her, yet seemed to be somehow protective of her at the same time. When she smiled at a joke, they tried to do more to make her laugh. She seemed content to relax and listen and he felt a sense of pride as she kept looking around the bar. He could tell she was observing all the little details that he had obsessed over because her eyes would pause for a moment on something and she'd smile to herself a bit before continuing to look around.

That was how he came to be acting the loon, as he tried to guess their professions. The casual clothing gave nothing away.

"Eileen?" prompted the young man. "Do you want to tell him?"

"I'd really rather not," she said and her wicked grin sent a jolt of electricity through him, "after all, we just waltzed in here and started ordering the man around."

The effect of the grin was why it took his brain a few seconds to catch on. She had thrown back the phrase he had used when venting. What had he said before that? Oh no! Damn auditors...

"You're not...." He couldn't even get the words out. He had thought he was embarrassed before, but nothing compared to this moment. He had insulted the woman of his dreams, dreams he didn't even know he had until this moment.

The loud and raucous laughter of Ryan and Sean brought him back to himself enough so that he realized none of the people in front of him looked even remotely annoyed.

"You don't seem to be...um..." he pulled the collar of his sweater away from his throat where it felt unaccountably tight, "insulted?"

"Nawww," the young man laughed, "we know what most people picture when they hear 'auditor'. It's an ashy-pale dude with huge glasses, grey suit and briefcase."

He pretended to give that serious thought, "Well, I'm not sure about the grey suit and the glasses...but pale and older for sure."

"Err...are there more like you where you work?" he asked. He still felt like his foot was in his mouth, but couldn't think of a legitimate way to extricate it. At that, they all burst out laughing again. Eileen shook her head in sympathy at him and leaned forward conspiratorially. He resented the expanse of wood that separated them.

"An entire office full!" She said in a staged sort of voice that carried all the way down the bar.

Sean and Ryan turned, not bothering to pretend they were having their own conversation anymore. "I feel like I might need an audit of my own," Sean observed to Ryan loudly.

"You don't think Michael will get lucky and have a nice youngster auditing him, do you?" Ryan asked.

Both men looked over at Michael considering. "Well Mike," said Ryan, "did your incoming auditor sound like a grey-suit or like one of these folks?"

"Seriously?" he asked. "You expect me to know how he looks from a brief phone call?"

"I think it's a reasonable request," Eileen said, "you can tell a lot about a person from their voice and their tone."

Mike ran a hand through his hair, looking from the old men down the bar to the younger people in front of him.

"How? How did this conversation get here?" he muttered to no one in particular. "Can I get anyone a re-fill."

Sean shook his head and stage-whispered back to Eileen, "He does this sometimes. Completely changes the topic when he doesn't want to talk."

"Hmmm..." Eileen inclined her head gracefully to Sean, "I will be sure to keep that in mind." She pushed her glass forward for a re-fill and met Michael's eyes with another of those heart-stopping smiles.

Michael was saved, from having to say anything coherent, by the entry of more patrons. He pressed the buzzer that would signal the wait staff that it was time to get started and braced for a crazy night.