Chapter Eight
“Esa said it was Christmas tradition to give a gag gift to your host!” Naveed said, eyes wide. Sameera’s parents and her unrepentant little brother were arranged on the couch like recalcitrant children, facing the fireplace, where Lord Ganesha had so recently blessed them.
“It’s probably not a good idea to take holiday gift advice from your teenage son,” Sameera said severely, though she was relieved to hear the chocolate and cherry cordial crucifix had been a joke, however ill-advised.
They would have needed a longer conversation if her parents had thought the chocolate a genuinely tasteful gift for the holidays.
She fixed her gaze on her mother. “You know what kids are like, Mom. You were a school principal!”
Tahsin hung her head. “I like chocolate with cherry cordial filling,” she admitted. “I might have been having a craving.”
Sameera threw up her hands in frustration before wheeling on her brother, who seemed completely unmoved.
“I’m going through your bags to vet the other Christmas gifts,” she said.
Despite Esa’s protests, she started with his bag first, but she couldn’t find anything. From his innocent expression, she was sure she must be missing something and vowed to keep a closer eye on him.
She pulled an oversize box from her parents’ bag. “Karaoke Santa? Really?” Sameera said, gesturing to the front of the box, where a joyfully gyrating Santa promised fun times for all.
“Esa said karaoke was a Christmas tradition,” Naveed said. “They’re always singing in holiday concerts and church, and everyone always knows the words.”
She shook her head. “I will remind you once again not to take gift-giving advice from your teenage son,” she said.
The family retired to their separate rooms, and after Sameera had taken a long shower, making liberal use of the organic, locally sourced shampoo and body wash, she dressed in her warmest sweater and fleece-lined leggings before making her way to the main house.
She and Tom definitely needed to talk. They had to come up with a game plan, and she also needed an update on Andy’s whereabouts.
Once she secured him as a client, she might finally be able to calm down.
She had texted before making the short walk across the yard to Cooke Place, her new boots making a satisfying crunching sound as she walked through the snow. But when she got to the front door, it was Barb and not Tom at the door.
“Are you settling in? I hope you’re not going to leave on account of the . . . mantel incident,” Barb said, lowering her voice.
Sameera schooled her face into a polite smile. “I’m here to see Tom.”
Barb smiled nervously. “Of course!” She called up to Tom, who yelled that he would be right down. Barb led her to the enormous sitting room, indicating for Sameera to take a seat on the couch. “I’m glad you came by. I hope you don’t mind that we didn’t put you and Tom in the same room together.”
Sameera’s eyes widened, alarmed at the idea.
If Barb had tried, her mother would have immediately summoned an imam.
“I like having my own space,” she said carefully.
“How much has Tom told you about . . . our relationship?” She winced at the word, but it was probably better to find out what Barb knew first.
“You know how he is,” Barb said, smiling.
Not really, Sameera thought. “I was surprised when my mom said she had reached out to you online. I’m sorry for intruding during your holidays,” she started, but Barb waved her words away.
“No, dear, I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. We were both so excited,” Barb said.
“About what?” Sameera asked.
“I saw that video Tom posted from your mom’s house, and of course, I noticed the way he looked at you.
Completely smitten, and who can blame him?
” Barb continued, “When I called to invite him home for the holidays as usual, he told me how much he enjoyed catering for your family, and how it made him miss home. Then when he posted a second video with you by his side, I knew I had you to thank.”
“I don’t understand,” Sameera said. “Why would you thank me?”
“For bringing our son home,” Barb said simply, and Sameera tried not to flinch. Before she could ask any more questions, Tom joined them in the sitting room, his gaze moving from his stepmother to his fake girlfriend.
“I hope you haven’t been telling Sameera embarrassing stories,” he said, his tone wary.
“Only how happy we are to have you home at last,” Barb said, rising. “Why don’t you take your girlfriend”—this time, Sameera definitely flinched—“on a tour of the property? It’s so pretty this time of year.”
When they were outside, breathing in the fresh wintry air, Tom tried to explain. “I’m not sure what Barb told you . . .” he started.
“Does she know this is all a ruse?” Sameera asked, gesturing between the two of them.
“A ‘ruse’? I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone actually use that word in a sentence,” he said, but she would not be distracted.
“I told my parents we’re not really dating.” At least, she had tried to tell them. Whether they believed her was their problem. “Have you been honest with your parents, too?” she demanded.
Tom looked at the ground, and Sameera stopped in the middle of the clearing to stare. “Your family knows we’re not actually together. Right?”
“It’s complicated,” he said to his feet.
Sameera wanted to scream. “I promise it’s not. It’s bad enough my mom thinks I’m lying, but if you haven’t come clean with your parents—”
“Tahsin thinks we’re really together?” Tom asked. “Is that why she cold-called my mom and invited herself to Alaska? I don’t understand why she would think you’d lie about that.”
“She assumes I’m hiding another relationship,” Sameera said, and his eyes widened. Even admitting this to someone outside of her family was humiliating. “I don’t have time for this. I have work to do, and a pitch to prepare. Which reminds me—when will Andy Shaikh be here?”
Tom smiled at her, and despite her annoyance, it was hard to remain unmoved.
He was ridiculously good-looking, and she was starting to resent it.
“Sick of me already?” he asked. She would not allow him to charm his way through another conversation.
The look she gave him was stony, and he relented.
“Okay, okay, you’re right. You deserve answers. Go ahead.”
“Why does Barb think we’re dating? Why did she respond to my mother’s message with an invitation to visit instead of blocking her, like a normal person?
What is going on between you and your dad?
Do you have any other siblings besides Cal?
Seems like basic information a girlfriend, even a fake one, would know. ”
They had walked to the outer periphery of the property now, and entered a densely wooded lot, the snow higher here.
Sameera was glad she had listened to her mother and bought a pair of well-lined winter boots for this trip.
She inhaled deeply after all those questions, the sharp hint of pine needles and crisp cold hitting her.
As much as she loved her life in Atlanta, she couldn’t remember the last time she had just . . . breathed.
Beside her, Tom was deep in thought. “Barb thinks we’re dating because I didn’t tell her we’re not,” he said.
He raised his hands in mock surrender at her outraged expression.
“To be clear, I never called you my girlfriend. She just assumed, and I didn’t correct her.
The reason for that is a bit more complicated.
” Tom sighed and looked around the wooded area.
Cooke Place appeared smaller behind them, though his eyes lingered on the guesthouse—his house, if he wanted it, Sameera thought.
“It sort of ties back to your other question about my dad. You’re right; there’s tension between us, and has been for a long time.
Rob has made it clear over the years that he wanted a different type of son than the one he got.
” The smile that accompanied this devastating remark was wry, and Sameera had to fight the urge to give him a hug.
So, he had daddy issues—didn’t everyone?
Well, not her, but that was because Naveed was amazing. Her mother, on the other hand . . .
“Everyone has issues with their parents; it’s a cliché for a reason.
I don’t get how pretending to have a girlfriend helps with that.
Is Rob not happy to have us here?” she asked, a sudden thought occurring to her.
“Does he not like Indians, Muslims, or immigrants, and you’re trying to make him mad—”
Tom shook his head, alarmed. “Nothing like that! I promise. It’s more like this relationship is a bit of an escape hatch for me.
” Off her inquiring look, he explained. “My dad wants me to move back to Alaska and pick up the family mantle.” He winced at his choice of words.
“I mean, family legacy means a lot to him, and he has this idea that his eldest son should live in Wolf Run, become the next mayor, run the family empire, and basically step into his shoes and do the same thing he’s been doing all his life. I don’t want any of that.”
“What about Cal?” Sameera asked.
“Cal is Barb’s son. As much as Rob loves him, he’s not a Cooke. Not really. Or at least, that’s how my dad sees things. Besides, Cal’s just a kid, and my dad is not a patient guy.”
“When my mom got in touch with Barb and invited herself over, your stepmother thought what, exactly?” Sameera asked.
Tom shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure, but I can guess. When I told her I wanted to visit this year, she thought it was due to your influence, that maybe I was ready to settle down at last, and she got excited and invited your entire family here.”
“Barb sounds like a total aunty,” Sameera said, sighing, thinking of her own mother.