Page 11 of Secret Santa

I felt ebullient. The weekend couldn’t have gone better. My students all achieved personal bests during the tournament. The number of people who complimented my coaching style? That had both surprised and delighted me. No one even mentioned that I was Beckett’s brother. In the airport on the return flight, when I’d taken my computer and such out of my bag at security my little good luck horse dropped out. For some reason having that piece from my new “home” reminded me of the singular person with whom I seemed to have any kindling of a friendship with—Priscilla. So naturally as I walked the shops she was on my radar.

She picked up that six-dollar maple leaf carved stone as if I’d gifted her a diamond. While I sipped my coffee and picked at my breakfast, I’d see her reach into the pocket she’d placed it in over and again. Touched. Besotted. Whatever the word for it was, I’d gladly buy her a mountain of little stones if she smiled like that every time.

How did she do it anyway? She mentioned she worked all weekend. Within seconds of me arriving home though, Fitzy knocked on my door and turned over a platter of meatloaf Priscilla made and left with her that morning. It was thanks to that thoughtfulness I’d had something to eat for dinner.

“Thank you for the meatloaf. That was incredibly thoughtful. Fitzy came just as I was trying to figure out what I could eat for dinner with my empty fridge and sad looking freezer.”

She laughed full and throaty, and I felt it zing through my blood stream.

“Oh man, never tell a diner owner that your fridge and freezer are sad and empty. Feeding people is our love language. You’re in for it now mister. You’ll be up to your eyeballs in the best fare this diner offers. I’ll have that sexy swimmer’s physique morphed into soft dad bod by New Year.”

Another customer came in and she was back on her feet and grabbing a pair of menus. I don’t think she realized she complimented me. She thought I had a sexy swimmer’s physique. I looked down at my long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. They weren’t anything spectacular. Hell, my jeans weren’t even of the ball crushingly tight variety my younger brother Harris loved.

Over the din of chatter from the couple and the Christmas music playing on the jukebox I heard Priscilla utter the most subtle whine. A group of kids came charging for the door as four harried looking parents tried to catch up. There were easily sixteen people total.

“Welcome to Ito Eats, when we say it, people smile!” I stood and started counting out menus.

Priscilla turned to look at me with total shock painted across her face.

“You do the cooking, I’ll do the bussing. Teamwork.” I pulled her into a half hug. “When we all shoulder the burden, it makes it lighter for everyone.”

Rather than give her a chance to object, I lead the sixteen-person group to the only long table in the diner big enough to hold them. Sure, I’d never waited tables in my entire life, but I’d muddle through.

“All right we have four peanut butter banana French toasts, three pound cakes with fruit, two orders of monkey bread, two scrambled egg and bacon sandwiches, one salad, two who are just having coffee and I already took care of them, one side of applesauce—don’t worry I’ll grab it, and one mom asked if she could just have a mashed-up banana for the baby.”

I felt quite proud of my first table waiting experience to be honest. Sixteen people is a lot. Sixteen people with a bunch of kids who are vying for their parents’ attention while said parents are simultaneously trying to place an order for all of them—we both earned gold stars for that feat.

“Impressive, young padawan.” Priscilla took the sheet from me and looked it over. “You don’t have to do this. I promise it’s not the first time I’ve run the show by myself.”

“And, you shouldn’t have to if there is someone willing and able to help. It’s a rest day today. All the kids were relieved from having to practice, and I told the coaching team to take today as a reset. So, I’m yours as long as you need me.”

It actually gave me a great idea.

Group Text to Team: Does anyone want to make some last-minute cash before the holidays AND help a friend to the community? My friend Priscilla from Ito Eats is manning the diner alone today. If you can come and help run tables during the lunch or dinner rush—you keep your tips!

* * *

I didn’t know how Priscilla did it every single day. I’d been watching the clock creep ever so slowly toward nine p.m. for easily the last hour willing time to move faster. Once the lunch rush had started, we hadn’t slowed down. Thankfully, there were plenty of kids on the team willing to pitch in. Having them around laughing and singing to the jukebox with Priscilla kept everyone’s spirits up. I’ve never met anyone like her. There wasn’t a song that blasted out of that old Wurlitzer that she didn’t know every word to. I got a front row seat, for the entire day, to her sweet voice humming and singing along to whatever random selection the kids picked.

When she’d mentioned feeding people was her love language, she wasn’t kidding. Each of my swimmers was sent home with at least one day’s worth of food, if not more. Considering dorm food wasn’t exactly haute cuisine, I knew she’d just made all of their days.

“Coach!” Tiernan called from the opposite end of the diner, lining up a dropped roll with his broom in a mock hockey stance.

The diner had emptied, and all that was left was clean up, so I played along, crouching into a defensive position with my broom.

“Tally is on the move,” he announced as he batted his roll back and forth. “Can he make it past the great wall known as Coach Murray. Tally has youth on his side, he’s quick, he’s spry, can he out maneuver his opponent?”

“Not when he doesn’t watch his blind side!” Priscilla swooped in kicking the roll from his broom, turning around him and “scoring” in his undefended “goal box.”

“She shoots, she scores!” Priscilla hooted, arms raised.

Never mind that when she raised those arms, her sweet fifties diner dress raised high enough to give me a peek at her luscious ass and shapely thighs. And fuck if that unexpected view didn’t give me a semi. Tiernan didn’t miss my adjustment either, smirking at me and raising his eyebrow.

“All right, Coach.” He slapped me high five. “I think you have the rest covered. I’ll see you manana.”

He placed the remaining chairs up on their tables before grabbing his backpack and jacket, heading toward the door.

“You know, it’s dangerous in these parts at night. All these ruffian kids running amok. Coach I think you need to walk this lovely woman home—you know, to make sure she gets in safe.”

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