Epilogue
Ten months later
“This is the hungry one, right?” Tom asked Sameera as they parked their car in her parents’ driveway.
She shook her head at her fiancé in fond bemusement.
After ten months together, he still thought that joke was funny, even after fasting with her a couple of times this past Ramadan.
Sameera was still not an observant Muslim, but she found the practice of fasting meditative, and she had decided to participate this year for a few days.
It also made her mother happy, which she suspected was Tom’s real motivation to “starve himself and not even drink water,” as he put it.
Sameera shifted the platter of samosas to her other hand and reached for the pile of Eid gifts. Tom scooped them from her easily.
“Do you think Esa will like what we got him?” he asked, mischief shining in his eyes.
They had bought him a vintage elf doll, in honor of her little brother’s successful YouTube show, where he helped young children use their traditions and culture to prank their families.
Sameera played the clip of the desi family biting into the samosas turned fortune cookie segment a half dozen times, and still cracked up at the confused expression on the parents’ faces when they pulled a curled-up fortune from their South Asian pastries.
“He’ll love it, but not as much as Nadiya will love her gift,” Sameera said.
After much discussion, they had decided to send her sister on a spa vacation—one where she had to stay silent for a week and endure an entire catalog’s worth of massages, mud baths, manicures, pedicures, and facials.
She would hate every second but come back feeling better.
Her sister had been working hard, finishing her thesis and volunteering with various UK charities; she deserved a break.
Rob flung open the door before they got halfway up the driveway.
He looked happy, his lined face lighter.
Things still weren’t perfect between him and Tom, but they were both working on the relationship.
It helped that Naveed and Tahsin’s enthusiasm for their joint project provided a good distraction, plus a reliably safe topic of conversation.
The parents were clear that they wanted to design and set up their business according to their very specific demographic, though thankfully, they soon realized that building an entire ski resort was too ambitious.
Instead, they had settled on a multipronged approach.
Step one was to work with the Wolf Run Business Association to set up the town as a holiday destination.
The ski run they had envisioned was now a few smaller hills and three bed-and-breakfasts.
Each one was already booked for the season, in addition to Cooke Place.
At Barb’s urging, they had decided to turn the house into an inn.
Starting the operation had taken Naveed’s full attention; his Gundam robots had been sadly neglected, but Sameera couldn’t remember when she had seen her father happier.
Naturally, Tahsin’s superior organizational abilities had proven invaluable in this endeavor.
In addition to setting up the inn and strategizing for the eventual ski resort, Tahsin had become an expert on local politics, Wolf Run vendettas, rumors, and alliances.
It wasn’t much different from running a school, she explained to a bemused Tom and Sameera over FaceTime—except schoolchildren were better behaved.
Sameera hefted her tray, which she had refused to relinquish to Tom.
She was too protective over its contents, and she couldn’t wait to see her family’s reaction when they sampled her first edible batch of samosas.
Traditional fillings only, this time—peas and potatoes in half, the other filled with savory meat.
Rob embraced both Tom and Sameera at the door before leading the way to the kitchen, where her mother stood watch over various pots.
Bee and Lorenzo sat at the table, folding linen napkins.
Her friend immediately gave her a hug, and Lorenzo and Tom smiled and shook hands.
They were on their way to becoming fast friends, as per Bee’s and Sameera’s instructions.
“Did you invite the entire neighborhood?” Sameera asked, putting her tray down. Tom was already peering inside pots with interest. He had been on the phone with Tahsin every day for the past week, putting together this Eid lunch menu, and he seemed satisfied with the result.
“Don’t be silly, Sameera beta, this will barely be enough for our family,” Tahsin said. Her mother still seemed harried, moving a mile a minute, but she was glowing. Running a business suited her.
Sameera greeted Barb, Esa, and Calvin, who were chatting in the living room, before going in search of her father. She found Naveed in the basement, surrounded by his LEGO bricks and Gundam models and looking a little forlorn.
“Eid Mubarak, Dad,” she said as he leaned into the hug.
“Eid Mubarak, beta,” he said, turning around. “Is Tom here?”
“He’s inspecting lunch,” she confirmed with a smile. She had been doing a lot of smiling lately. It had been a good year.
When she had returned to work in the new year, it was to surprising news: Andy Shaikh had gotten in touch with her firm to inquire about representation and had insisted on working exclusively with Sameera.
The email he sent to her personal account wasn’t quite an apology for his behavior, but with the rates he was paying, it didn’t have to be.
Even Blake had started to treat her with respect, knocking on her office door at least once before barging inside.
The senior partners had offered their congratulations, and there was talk of a promotion in her future, though she wasn’t sure she would take it.
Maybe she’d branch out on her own. Sameera was considering her next move, now that her finances were more settled and her relationship with her family more stable. It felt good to have options.
Life was good. Except her father looked sad, and the glow faded a bit.
“What’s wrong, Dad?” she asked. “Did you and Rob get into another argument about the decor? You know, turning the foyer of Cooke Place into a memorial for your favorite Persian poet will only confuse your guests.”
Naveed only shook his head, smiling bravely. “It’s not that, beta. Though I still think having a theme is important. And who doesn’t love Hafez?”
Sameera smiled and made a mental note to have some of Hafez’s beautiful poetry framed for her father as a gift for his birthday.
“What’s the problem?” she asked.
Naveed shook his head, brushing a tear from his eye. “I was thinking about the last Eid party we had. Remember? Things have changed so much.”
She took a seat on a stool beside him. Her father had set up a hobby room in this corner of the basement, and though it hadn’t been used much in the past six months, it was still decorated with his models, tools, and a tower of board games.
“For the better,” she said firmly. Thinking of where she was only a few years ago—broke, brokenhearted, estranged from her family, her obstacles seemingly unsurmountable—now filled her with a strange nostalgia.
She didn’t want to go backward, but thinking of the past made her appreciate where she was now.
There would be challenges in the future, of course.
No life was ever stable or peaceful for long.
But she was happy for now, surrounded by her favorite people in the world.
Which included Tom. He had stayed back in Wolf Run as promised, and the first few months of their relationship had been long-distance, which had worked surprisingly well.
They communicated over phone and text as often as they could, and she didn’t feel guilty when she had to work late or on weekends.
Similarly, he was able to focus on helping Rob and Barb clean out the house, make more videos, and tinker with his mother’s recipes.
After three months, he surprised her with a visit and some news: He was back for good, and his agent was in active negotiations with a few different outlets for a cooking show.
Now that the legal contract had been drawn up, with Naveed and Tahsin eager to start on their new joint project with their new Alaskan “family,” Rob had told him his presence was no longer required.
“He said he was tired of seeing my sad face, and that I should go back to Atlanta and kiss my girlfriend already,” Tom had said, laughing, and proceeded to do just that.
“Is that all I am?” Sameera had teased. She was joking, but Tom got a funny look on his face at her words, and took a step back.
“It’s fine, really,” she assured him.
Except he was already on one knee.
“Sameera, I know we got started in an unconventional way and that it hasn’t been that long since we met.
We’re so different, but when I look at you, when I hear your voice, when I hold your hand, I know I have never felt more like myself than when I’m with you.
I love everything about you—your kindness, generosity, loyalty, and I really love that you’re smarter than me. ”
Sameera choked back a sob-laugh at this.
“If you need time, I’ll wait. If you can only give me some of your heart, I’ll take it. I’m not going anywhere, ever again. Will you marry me?”
Her resounding “Yes!” had startled an inquisitive squirrel on the porch. Then Sameera had dragged Tom inside her condo to celebrate more thoroughly, and in private.
Her parents were happy for her, though Nadiya had made it clear she thought they were moving too fast. Esa gave her a virtual high five and then decided to do a series on the best way to prank a wedding, which was concerning.
Now she looked at her father with an indulgent smile. “The wedding isn’t until the summer,” she assured him. “I thought you couldn’t wait for us to get married.”
“Your mother is the one who wants you all settled,” Naveed corrected. “I have been secretly dreading the day.” He stood and gave his latest unfinished model a pat on its red robot head.
They walked up the stairs together, where Tom was putting the finishing touches on setting the table.
Their family and friends took their seats, plates piled high with every Eid staple: A platter of biryani shared space with three different types of curries, two of them made by Tom, and half a dozen desserts, including sheer khorma, a creamy pudding made with vermicelli and plenty of nuts.
Sameera’s samosas took pride of place at the center, and she noted that Tom had helped himself to three already. Even Tahsin said they were passable.
A wave of happiness and contentment washed over her as she sat surveying the table. She was surrounded by her people, the ones she had lost and then found, the ones she had stumbled upon and now knew to keep close, the people she loved most in the world.
The doorbell rang. “I thought you said this party was just family,” Nadiya said, shooting her mother a suspicious glance.
“It is only family. And maybe someone who might one day become family,” Tahsin said innocently. “Why don’t you greet your guest, Nadiya, beta?”
Her sister jumped up, scowling, and Tom leaned over to his soon-to-be bride.
“Did your mom invite Andy Shaikh to Eid lunch?”
Sameera smiled into his warm blue eyes. “When her first attempt at matchmaking worked out so well, she decided meddling works.”
When a scowling Nadiya returned to the table trailed by Andy Shaikh, the table erupted into greetings, arguments, recriminations, and teasing.
Sameera caught Tom’s glance, and they smiled at each other.
She knew what he was thinking: If this was the sort of fireworks he could expect at Eid, he couldn’t wait for next Christmas. Neither could she.