Chapter Twelve
“Hold your end straight. Now it’s too high; lower it a bit.
No, wait, watch where you’re going!” Sameera said.
Faced with the enormous tree, she and Tom had decided to carry it to the truck themselves.
Not that they had a choice, as Jan was clearly not about to offer any help.
Though Tom insisted he could carry it himself, Sameera had insisted right back that she would help.
The neatly wrapped conifer was her parents’ souvenir, after all.
What Tahsin and Naveed had been thinking, she had no idea.
There was no way they could bring a tree back to Atlanta.
“How do you usually decorate your Christmas tree?” Sameera asked.
“In Atlanta, it’s just me, so I don’t bother. What about your family?”
She thought fast. “With whatever we have lying around. Stickers. Paint. Streamers. Potato chips?”
“Not cheese balls? What about doughnuts on a string? Maybe some of those Ringolos, or Bugles,” Tom teased.
“Doritos are good, too,” she agreed.
“So, you’ve never decorated a Christmas tree,” Tom said.
“What gave me away?”
The grin he threw her was warm and genuine. As if he saw her silliness, and liked her all the better for it.
Hunter’s voice floated in her head then, always inconvenient and never welcome. Really, Sameera, why would you say such a ridiculous thing? Sometimes I wonder where your head is at.
Her despicable ex had routinely made little demeaning comments whenever she’d said something silly. She sometimes wondered if Hunter had recognized something broken in her that he could burrow inside—or had he done the breaking, so that she would never be open to love again?
“About Jan . . .” Sameera started.
“I’m sorry for what she said back there. She’s known me since I was a little kid, which means she doesn’t hold back. I haven’t been her favorite person for the past few years.”
“Because you broke up with Emily?” Sameera asked, hating herself. At least she hadn’t added, your drop-dead-gorgeous ex-girlfriend/fiancée/wife.
“Something like that,” Tom said, evasive. “Also, because I left town and made it clear I didn’t intend to move back. That’s considered treason in some Wolf Run households, including my own.”
Sameera tilted her head, thinking. “It’s a small town. I get why you might have wanted to explore the world a bit more.”
Tom stopped abruptly. “I loved living here when I was a kid. It felt like the town belonged to me. My dad certainly talked about Wolf Run as if it did. I felt special. Except as I got older, it started to feel wrong. Like I had been given something I never earned. Then my mom got sick. For a long time after she died, it was hard to reconcile the part of me that belonged in Wolf Run and the part that wanted to leave, that needed to leave. When I got accepted to Georgia Tech, I took it. Rob didn’t even know I had applied. ”
Sameera gripped the end of her tree tightly—it was tempting to drop it and embrace Tom instead. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, and a flash of gratitude passed over his face, but then he shrugged.
“When I told my dad I was moving away, he predicted I would never come back,” he said.
Sameera made a big show of looking around.
“You’re here now. It’s never too late to come home.
” After Hunter left, Nadiya had encouraged Sameera to get back in touch with her parents.
It had taken a long time for her to work up her courage, to swallow her fear and pride, and agree to talk.
She was grateful every day that she had, and that her parents had welcomed her back in their lives.
Tom’s smile was wary, clearly not convinced. “All this to say, when you see people staring—it’s me they’re wondering about, not you. I’m the traitor who left.”
They had reached the truck now, and Tom lifted the tree into the bed without any help. Sameera tried not to stare as his muscles flexed, but it was difficult. He grinned when he caught her, and she schooled her features back to neutral.
“Or maybe they’re wondering how Tom Cooke, Wolf Run’s prodigal son, managed to ensnare all of this,” she said, pointing at herself. She was joking, of course, but his gaze heated as it traveled up her body and came to rest on her lips.
“Me, too,” he said softly.
They stared at each other for a moment, Sameera caught off guard by his admission.
Not what I’m here for, she reminded herself.
Tom was a flirt, and she was lonely. She couldn’t do anything about the former, but once she had signed Andy as a client and her job was no longer in danger and she had—politely—told HR where to take their passive-aggressive threats, she could do something about the latter.
But nothing could happen here, in the middle of all this confusing drama, with her future unknown and shaky.
Wordlessly, they got back in the truck and set off back home. In the cab, Sameera decided it would be in both their interests if she moved the conversation away from dangerous topics and back to Tom’s issues with his family.
“I don’t really buy your story,” she said.
This surprised a laugh out of him. “Excuse me?”
Sameera dropped her end of the tree and put hands on her hips. “Your ‘poor me’ act. I don’t think you believe it, either. Not really.”
“May I remind you that we met a week ago? You don’t know me very well.” Tom’s lips were set in a firm line, and his body language told her he didn’t want to continue with this conversation. But she was a litigator, used to coaxing testimony from unwilling witnesses.
“I’m not basing my conclusions on any intimate knowledge of your character,” Sameera said calmly.
“I’m basing it on facts.” She began to tally her points on her fingers.
“You think no one wants you here. Well, Barb is thrilled to see you, and Calvin clearly wants to hang out. Hilda practically offered you a job on the spot, no questions asked. Not to mention Emily seemed excited to have you back,” she couldn’t help but add.
Tom was having trouble meeting her gaze now. “That’s true, I suppose.”
She gave him an extra second to see if he had anything to add about Emily.
He didn’t. She continued, “Secondly, there’s an easy solution if you want to stay away from home.
” She took a deep breath. “You simply stay away. Ergo, you are exactly where you want to be.” Atlas would have approved of her sharp smile.
“Does the defense have anything to add?”
Tom shook his head ruefully. “No, ma’am.”
“That’s what I thought,” she said.
He mulled over her words. “What about you?” he asked. “Alaska is a long way to travel to meet your daughter’s alleged boyfriend’s family. Your mom could have just FaceTimed—I know Tahsin Aunty loves her video calls. What’s really going on there?”
Sameera looked out the window, even as she smiled at the honorific Tom had added to her mother’s name. She wanted to tell Tom the truth about her complicated family relationships but found she couldn’t. “My parents are retired, bored, and have a lot of disposable income,” she said instead.
Tom was a good man; he didn’t call her on her lie. They drove back home in companionable silence, each lost in thought.
Back at Cooke Place, everyone was gathered in the guesthouse.
Rob and Barb had picked up on the Malik family’s enthusiasm, and they had decided to set the new tree up in the guesthouse sitting room.
Barb hurried to the main house to grab extra ornaments from the attic, and they considered their options.
Esa held up one made of Popsicle sticks.
“Your handiwork?” he asked Calvin, eyebrows quirking.
Cal laughed and shook his head, nodding at Tom.
“I made it in preschool,” Tom said, reaching for the ornament, which had clearly been glued together by a toddler with more enthusiasm than eye-hand coordination.
Rob stood beside his son. “You were so proud to hang it on our tree that year.” He reached out and turned it over to reveal a framed picture on the other side, featuring toddler Tom, his blond hair a halo of soft curls and an adorable pout on his face, cradled in a younger woman’s arms—his mother, Pamela.
Behind them, Cinderella’s castle was visible.
He placed the ornament on the tree and stared at it.
Rob cleared his throat. “I’m afraid we don’t have enough decorations for a second tree. Barb went on a bit of a decluttering spree last month.”
“You always need the thing you just threw away.” Barb laughed.
“Do you have any potato chips?” Tom murmured, glancing at Sameera. “How about cheese balls?” Sameera smothered her smile. Despite the strangeness of their interaction in town, she enjoyed Tom’s teasing.
Tahsin jumped up and disappeared into her bedroom. Tom leaned close to Sameera. “She knows I was joking, right?”
“Never joke about food with a desi aunty,” Sameera said. “Mom considers it her personal mission to feed everyone.”
Tahsin returned with an armload of gauzy material and a few jewelry boxes. Catching on, Sameera reached out to hold up one of her mother’s elaborate, colorful dopatta shawls for everyone to admire.
“Good thing I always travel with some of my favorite earrings,” Tahsin said, holding open the boxes to display large jhumka earrings, an elaborate necklace, and a dozen bangles with filigree and crystal work.
The Malik family got to work, and a short while later stood back to admire their handiwork.
Their very first Christmas tree was swathed in three shawls that ran the gamut of red, yellow, and purple in chiffon, satin, and wool.
Interspersed between were shiny flashes of costume jewelry, each individual earring, necklace, and bracelet catching the light.
On Esa’s suggestion, they decided to top the tree with a bright-red wool hat with a jaunty pom-pom, in honor of the Alaskan chill.
“It’s beautiful,” Sameera said, standing back to admire their tree.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Tom said, looking at her. Beside them, Esa mimed sticking a finger down his throat, but Sameera didn’t mind. She would take her brother’s jokes and teasing over his chilly silence any day.
“It looks a little bare underneath,” Barb said. “We’ll bring over the presents Santa got for you all from the big house later.”
Tahsin, who had been smiling in satisfaction at the tree, now frowned. “Oh yes, presents. We have some for you as well. Santa just had some trouble with the local customs officer.” She shot Sameera an annoyed look; clearly, her mother had not forgiven her for the luggage check their first night.
Barb waved her hand away. “Oh, you didn’t have to get us anything!
Just being here with us over the holidays is a gift.
” She tugged on Rob’s hand, but her husband’s eyes were still lingering on the small Popsicle-stick ornament.
“We’ll let you rest after all the excitement today. Come along, Cal, Tom.”
Once the Cookes had left, Tahsin whirled on Sameera. “We must return to town immediately.”
“Why?” Sameera asked.
“You would have me show up empty-handed to a Christmas celebration? I would never recover from the shame,” Tahsin said, reaching for her jacket and pulling on her boots. “Naveed, we have a lot of shopping to do.”
“But Barb said it was fine . . .” Sameera started. Tahsin held up her hand.
“Since you threw out the thoughtful gifts I did pack, you can come with me to pick out new ones.”
“Anything is better than a chocolate crucifix and karaoke Santa,” Sameera muttered, but she took her mother’s point.
“I have to pick up a few things, too,” Esa said, careful to keep his voice casual. Sameera was immediately suspicious, but Tahsin beamed at her youngest child.
“You want to buy a nice gift for our hosts? Such a generous boy,” she said.
“I certainly am,” Esa agreed. “Can I borrow a couple hundred dollars? You can’t put a price on good manners.”
That settled it. If Esa was going shopping with their parents, she would have no excuse not to join.
Someone had to make sure they stayed out of trouble.
She thought of the work waiting for her, and her half-finished pitch for Andy.
It was Christmas Eve tomorrow, and she would buckle down and finish it all later, she promised herself.
Andy wasn’t expected until Christmas Day, anyway, according to that video message to Tom.
Tonight she would make herself a double—no, triple—shot of espresso, stay up late finishing her pitch, and put a dent in her billable hours.
It would be fine. There was plenty of time.
Besides, it had been nice, trimming the Christmas tree with her mother’s trinkets and dopattas. Watching Home Alone last night with her family had been nice, too. Same with the holiday scavenger hunt, though perhaps not the confrontation with Jan.
“Coming, Sameera?” Esa asked, pausing by the door. There was a challenge in his gaze, and the tiniest tinge of hope in the question.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” she said. Sameera reached for her boots and followed her family outside.