Getting down to business, Patrick asked Dad, “Learn anything at the Petroleum Alliance’s golf open? When was that, Monday?”
“Yes. In Oklahoma City,” their father responded in his quiet, gravelly monotone. “I shared a cart with the Governor for several hours. It’s clear the White House is turning a deaf ear to his plea, and that of the Oklahoma Energy Resources Board, to reduce the nation’s need for imported Russian energy. It’s concerning.”
The three men sat silently for a moment, contemplating the ramifications of the government administration not recognizing the importance of utilizing the resources at hand. But thank God, the running, and the giant headache, of the family’s oil business had been bought out a few of years ago by shareholders.
His father had recognized that the business, at least for him, was going in a direction that took way more politicking than he was willing to endure.
Oil had made their family billionaires, and since selling the majority of the stock, their interests could be focused on more pleasurable ventures. They had investments in various businesses all over the world, which is why traveling was such a huge part of their lives.
He and Patrick had been groomed from a young age to take over in their father’s stead, so when he came to them about five years ago with a proposal to sell, Bran admitted, the news was met with relief.
“Well, energy resources are a concern, but one that we won’t be solving this morning,” Bran said, hoping to ease the tension from his father’s shoulders. Oil may not be their end-all everything now, but some responsibilities took time to shake.
“Right,” Pat continued, “where are we on Wolves?”
“I found a design firm, in Eufaula of all places. Comes with Diana Gaines’ seal of approval, and we all know how she likes her shit to be just so.”
That even got a smile from Dad, as he knew the elderly daughter of a natural gas mogul was a... stickler for all things fashionable and appropriate. Diana did truly love Gran, and they’d been friends since childhood, so the boys, which included his father, tolerated her show of treating them like inferior employees that would never cut it in the Gaines’ household.
“That’s only thirty to forty minutes from here. I assume traveling to Tulsa wouldn’t be a problem,” Pat said.
“Diana told Gran that they work all over Oklahoma, Texas, and even in Arkansas. Triskelion Territory Designs. The logo is a Celtic triskelion with Native American symbols. I liked it,” Bran admitted. He would have to make a point to ask the owners the story behind their name and logo.
Busy looking up the company, Pat added, “It’s run by three sisters. Hmmm,” he paused. “The company is only three years old. There are no pics of the owners, only their credentials. They all graduated from OU in Interior Design. Weirder, they all graduated the same year.”
“Maybe they decided to go to school later in life. A career pivot, like us,” Bran added.
“And what in the hell does it matter what they look like, Pat? Jesus. Is their website good?” Dad asked, drumming his fingers on his ebony wood desk, an antique from some royal court in Europe that was bequeathed to Hugh upon his father’s passing.
“I didn’t say it mattered,” Pat shot back, “only that it’s odd. The website is legit. I couldn’t have done better myself. Lots of before-and-afters. The color scheme is subtle, pleasing to the eye. Very easy to navigate.”
“I emailed them last night and actually just received a reply before you guys came in.” Calling up his emails again, Bran read the reply.
Good morning Mr. O’Faolain. We appreciate that you’re considering our company for Wolves Irish Pub. You mentioned coming to Eufaula. We would be pleased to meet with you at your convenience. Let us know when, and we will block off several hours.
After you tell us about the project, your needs, wants, and what you expect from our team, we will, if you choose to go with us, create a portfolio of options and our personal recommendations. We would, of course, need to see the space and speak to your Hospitality management team.
We look forward to meeting with you,
Triskelion Territory Designs
“Professional,” Dad admitted. “Well-spoken and to the point.” High praise from the O’Faolain patriarch.
“I’ll be packing for the Kentucky Derby in a few days. And, by the way, Bran, you’ve never said whether you’re going or not,” Pat lifted his eyebrows in good-natured irritation. “The three of us could make a run to Eufaula this afternoon or tomorrow.”
“That’s not a bad idea. That way, if we do decide to go with them, they can set up a meeting with James or his sister to look over the plans for the projected opening date and so on.” James O’Connor was one of Bran’s best friends from school. His family ran a hospitality business that opened bars and restaurants all over the world. Wolves was an important project for Bran’s family. The Irish pub was meant to honor Bran’s grandfather, Jonathan O’Faolain, who had passed away a couple of years ago. The O’Connors were the only team they would trust with something so personal.
“Today won’t give them enough time to rearrange their schedule.”
“You’re right, Dad. I’ll email them back and ask for tomorrow morning if that works for everyone.” Bran looked at both men, who nodded in agreement. “While I do this, Pat, call James and see what his schedule looks like next week in case we do go with Triskelion. We’ll want to get things going as soon as possible.”
“I’ll make the call in the kitchen where Sara hopefully left some hidden treats.”
As Patrick sauntered off, Dad asked, “Have you spoken to James lately? I spoke with Dean O’Connor at the Summit Club the other day. He didn’t come out and say he was concerned about James, but he certainly inferred it.”
Dad paused, and Bran looked up from his email. His father’s direct gaze leveled on him, awaiting Bran’s response.
“It’s been a couple weeks. I got some initial pricing for the pub. The usual shit.” Bran ran over the brief encounter to see if he may have missed something. “If there was a problem, I was not aware of it.”
