Chapter Seven #3
The house was enormous, a sprawling three-story building that could have easily doubled as a conference center or spa, and surrounded on three sides by lush pine forests.
The house faced the village of Wolf Run, like a medieval lord surveying his fiefdom, Sameera thought.
A large veranda wrapped around the house, and brightly painted Muskoka chairs dotted the white wooden structure.
A gravel-strewn path led from an oversize custom double-door entrance to a circular driveway that could accommodate a fleet of cars.
They parked and piled out, Barb leading the way inside, where the tiled stone floor gave way to a massive sitting room with soaring thirty-foot ceilings and floor-length windows that looked out at a sprawling snow-covered patio.
A creek bisected the property, and Sameera sighed at the beauty surrounding her.
The picture before her belonged on a postcard, or maybe a screen saver.
“You grew up here?” she asked Tom, and he nodded, his body tense.
“Lucky me,” he said softly, looking around with a strange expression on his face.
“What do you think of our little shack?” Rob asked with a smile, entering the sitting room behind them and throwing his hands wide.
While Naveed and Tahsin managed to keep their composure, Esa was less discreet. “Dude, you live in a palace,” he said to Calvin, who shrugged, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“One time a moose wandered onto the back patio,” he offered. “He stared through the window of the kitchen, and Mom freaked out.”
“Awesome!” Esa said.
Sameera tried to catch Tom’s eye, but he looked away.
A change had come over him since they had pulled up to Cooke Place—more like Cooke Mansion, Sameera thought wryly.
In Atlanta, Tom seemed at home no matter the venue, from a stuffy law firm holiday party to the Maliks’ raucous Eid celebration to his own stainless steel commercial kitchen.
Yet two minutes inside his childhood home, and he already radiated restless unhappiness.
There was tension between Tom and his father, too.
Sameera could see it in the way he held himself, in the careful way he stayed silent while his father boasted about the house and property.
“My great-grandfather built the original log cabin. He was a prospector, but he recognized an opportunity here. He decided to stay, found himself a wife, and built the town from the ground up. That’s why his name is everywhere.
Tom is named after him—Thomas Tipper Cooke.
My grandfather built this house after his businesses took off, and every generation has added to it.
Someday, this will all belong to Tom and Cal,” Rob boasted.
With his hands on his hips, Rob looked like a contented king, and Tom his reluctant heir apparent. “If he ever returns home, that is,” he added.
“I’m here now,” Tom muttered. Then, as if coming out of a trance, he threw Sameera a wry half smile. “Ready to see the guesthouse where you’ll be staying?”
“Guesthouse?” Esa said, eyes wide.
“Three bedrooms, two baths,” Rob confirmed, looking smug. “Set near the woods, so it’s nice and private.”
The Malik family followed Rob, Barb, and Tom out the sliding glass doors and through the grounds, toward a small bungalow on the edge of the property.
It looked different from the main house, and Rob explained that he’d had it built around the time Tom was supposed to graduate from college.
“Still waiting for that diploma,” Rob said genially.
“He’s only got one year left, and he knows I’ll pay his tuition when he goes back. ”
“Not going to happen, Dad,” Tom said tightly. “Sameera and her family are tired. We should let them rest.”
But Rob wasn’t finished boasting about the guesthouse. “There’s a gourmet kitchen, too, top-of-the-line appliances. I know how Tommy likes to fiddle around with his recipes, just like his mom used to do.”
“I never asked you to build me a house,” Tom muttered. His father ignored him, and Sameera caught the strained smile Barb exchanged with her mother.
Inside, the house was airy and bright, and obviously well maintained.
A large wood-burning fireplace took center stage, and though the ceilings were not as impressive as in the main house, the sofas looked comfortable and the colorful wool rug inviting.
The walls were adorned with framed photographs of the Alaskan sky, regal mountains and crystal blue and green lakes, but the real showstopper was the entire back wall, which consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking forest and a frozen-over creek.
Her family exclaimed over the view, but Sameera noticed that Tom’s eyes lingered on the appliances in the kitchen before firmly looking away.
Once the house tour came to an end, Sameera hoped her hosts would take the hint and leave them to settle in.
She had spotted an espresso machine in the kitchen.
Instead, Barb and Rob stood in front of the fireplace, grinning.
“We wanted to make y’all comfortable,” Rob announced in an exaggerated Southern twang before reverting to his normal voice.
He gestured to the stained oak mantel, and Sameera focused on the three figurines neatly arranged across the top.
Frowning, she stepped closer to take a better look. Was that . . . surely it can’t be . . .
“Lord Ganesha; Kali, the destroyer and creator; and the god Vishnu!” Barb said proudly. “I know how important it is to have your deities with you, so we made you a shrine, right here!”
Sameera wanted to face-palm. Behind her, Esa stifled a laugh while their parents looked at the idols in shock.
“Dad,” Tom started, and she was relieved that he had taken the initiative.
For her part, she wasn’t sure what would come out of her mouth—hysterical laughter or a groan.
“Sameera and her family are Muslim, not Hindu.” He waited expectantly, but Rob and Barb only looked at him.
With a sigh, he continued, “Those aren’t their gods.
I mean, it’s all one god, really, but their worship is more . . . reincarnation-free.”
Understanding seemed to dawn on Rob’s and Barb’s faces simultaneously, followed by embarrassment.
“You said they were Indian,” Rob muttered while Barb carefully removed the statues from the mantel.
“India is a country with many different religions. Sameera’s family are Muslim Indians,” Tom said, his face flushing further, and this time Sameera really did want to laugh. She stepped forward with smiling reassurance.
“This was very kind of you,” she said. “My parents grew up in Hyderabad, India, and many of their close friends are Hindu, Parsee, even Christian.”
“I’m so sorry for the confusion,” Barb said, flustered. “I’ll find these beautiful statues a good home. There must be a temple somewhere in town, right?”
“Maybe in Anchorage,” Rob said doubtfully.
Behind them, Tahsin was rummaging through their largest suitcase.
“Since we’re exchanging gifts, I had this custom-made for your family.
” She pulled out a large navy-blue box tied with a red ribbon, so wide it nearly engulfed her small form.
Intrigued, Sameera helped her place it on the wide-plank oak coffee table with a live edge.
Both Rob and Barb made appreciative noises, no doubt eager to move on from their gaffe.
Tahsin pulled off the lid with a flourish, and the group gaped.
Inside, nestled in white tissue wrap, was an enormous chocolate crucifix. The Cookes turned to Tahsin, confusion writ large on their faces, and Sameera felt a foreboding fill her. Behind her, Esa raised his cell phone to film their hosts’ reaction.
“It’s filled with cherry cordial,” Tahsin said, beaming at them. When they didn’t respond, she continued, “Because Christians eat the blood of Christ!”
There was another shocked silence, broken only by Cal’s muttered, “So awesome.”
“Okay, I think we’ve had enough of the welcome gifts,” Sameera said, hastily putting the lid back on the chocolate box.
“Rob, Barb, thank you so much for the warm . . . um . . . welcome. I’m sure you have a lot to do, and we wouldn’t want to keep you .
. .” She ushered the elder Cookes outside, Cal and Tom following a few steps behind. Tom turned to her at the door.
“I think it’s going really well,” he whispered, eyes twinkling.
“Our parents get an A for effort and an F for research,” Sameera agreed.
He grinned at her, and a thousand butterflies took flight in her belly. “Why don’t you come find me after you’ve had a chance to relax? We should talk.”
Sameera watched him return to the main house, and tried to fight the urge to follow.
First, she had to talk to her family.