The Christmas Elf, A Secret-Santa Story

Chapter 10 - Of all the bars, you walk into mine...

Saturday 17 December

Michael was so edgy for most of the evening that his assistant-chef-turned-main-chef put him out of the kitchen. Normally that might have been fine. However, he had also managed to annoy his bartender and was also banned from behind the bar. His staff was back up to full capacity, even without the return of his chef, because he had called in a couple extra servers.

So now he took a seat at the bar, like a guest. Sean and Ryan moved over so he had the end seat on the extreme right, because the bar was packed with patrons. They also gave him the once over but wisely kept silent.

While the bar itself was packed with patrons having a loud and good time, the turnover at the tables was steady. It was a mix of friends and families having a satisfying dinner instead of cooking on their own. Michael always felt like he had successfully achieved the convivial pub experience of a village in Ireland. While a certain amount of at-home time was part of any healthy family relationship, people were meant to feel like they were part of a something bigger. They were meant to feel connected to the wider society and not like they were always walking through a land of strangers.

Michael offered Andrew his most forlorn look but the bartender wasn't having any of it. "That's a mighty good place for you, right now," Andrew commented. "What can I get you?"

"If I have to be in exile like this, I feel like I deserve a scotch on the rocks – but I have to continue prepping for the auditor so I don't have that luxury," he sighed.

"Is that what has you pacing up and down, telling me and everyone else how to do the jobs we've been doing for the last months?" Andrew asked, mixing a drink of his choice.

"I guess," Michael tried to keep up with the combination and proportion of liquids that was going into the glass. He had hired Andrew because he was a whiz at mixing drinks, he would go to the ends of the earth to keep him for his people skills. Andrew could look at someone who came in, analyze their mood and mix something up that would totally resonate with how they felt. Andrew was the only person he had ever met who could cure a bad mood with a single drink.

Long before the drink was set before him, he gave up analyzing the mix. Michael took a tentative sip and breathed out. "It's not fair, you know, that kind of skill. No one could ever stay mad at you for long once they drank what you put in front of them," he said in appreciation.

"Good thing you weren't mad at me, huh boss? I was the one who was being annoyed remember?"

Michael was saved from answering by the opening of the main door. Andrew looked up and a very interested look was upon his face when he said, "Well, well, hello there...."

Michael turned slightly so he could see the newcomers, his senses on high alert. She stood at the front desk speaking to the hostess stationed there. There was a handsome man right behind her and she turned to ask him a question. He laughed and said something in return.

Michael's stomach had an odd and queasy feeling. Surely it could not be that she would return and be taken! There was nothing in his half-drawn-up fantasy of meeting her again about her already being in a relationship. A poacher of another man's woman was something he definitely was not and had no intention of being.

He tore his gaze away from the woman with whom he had felt such an immediate connection. Eileen. The name conjured up images of the green of Ireland and a fairy tale 'home and hearth' longing that he had never known he even had.

His gaze went to the dining area and noted with relief that there was an available table being cleared. Despite the fact that she was with someone he had the urge to rush over and show her to the table himself. It was, after all, his pub. He wanted to make her feel welcome and wanted more than anything to see her relax into her surroundings as she had last night.