The Christmas Elf, A Secret-Santa Story

Chapter 15 - First 'real' date...sort of

Sunday 18 December

Eileen lit the tapers on the candles as a final finishing touch and stepped back to survey the table.

"Looks great honey," her mother said coming up behind her, "Your dining room and the lovely china set I sent for your last birthday are both finally getting use."

"You know I'm a simple girl, mom," she slid her arm around her mother's waist. The long hard-wood table gleamed in the candlelight, the burgundy runner with its holly and ivy embroidery centered along the middle. The small candelabra held three candles, adding the right amount of light to that cast by the whimsical lamps on small raised tables in the corners. China and silver glittered, awaiting their guests.

"Need any help in the kitchen?" she asked.

"No dear, you barely let me do anything as it was. Makes me wonder who we're trying to impress with your culinary skills, hmmmm?"

"You know I like to go all out for Christmas meals with family and friends!" she protested.

"The fridge was certainly well-stocked for unexpected dinners like this. The baked pork smells heavenly and the stuffed potatoes looked perfect when I peeked in the oven just now," Mrs. O'Connor observed.

"You did all the grilled green beans, the fried mushrooms and the salad though, and they taste great," Eileen countered.

"You still manage to sneak a taste when I wasn't looking didn't you?" her mother mock-glowered.

A chime sounded.

"Saved by the bell!" Eileen leapt away from further inquisitions.

~ o ~

Michael stomped the snow from his shoes as much as he could before he mounted the front steps. "Don't know what I was thinking," he muttered to himself, "this could be relationship suicide if it doesn't go well...and I so want it to go well!"

He took a deep breath, straightened his spine, "I am an O'Leary and an O'Leary is not a coward!" With this thought firmly in mind, he finally knocked.

A giggle came from behind him and he whirled around. There was no one there. Then he looked down at the little doll-like girl who was climbing the steps after him.

"I talk to myself too, sometimes," she whispered looking up at him, "'specially when I am scared and don't want to be a coward."

"Ella! I told you not to run ahead!" the woman striding from the pavement towards the front step had a pastry box carefully in hand. She was an older version of the little girl.

"It's okay mom," her daughter waved her worry away, "I'm here now."

Then she whispered back to Michael, "I won't tell, but don't let the others know, 'cus they might think you're a little...you know." She made a rolling sign with her finger near her ear that Michael assumed meant crazy.

He was still goggling at her, unsure how to respond to her comments, when the door opened.

"Oh," Eileen said, "great timing. Please come in!"

She opened the door wide and Michael had to wonder what about the timing made it good. Was it that they had arrived at the same time? Was it a key point in the cooking process?

He stepped back to allow the doll-like child to enter first and then waited as the mother caught up and entered, thanking him as she passed. All the while he stared at Eileen.

She greeted her two guests and gestured them on into the kitchen before turning to him. Her cheeks were a little rosy, "What? Why are staring like that? Do I have something on my nose? Is it flour?" She passed a hand over her face and looked at it.