ButNick, she reminded herself. He was probably worried sick about her. At the moment, he would be attending a brunch at an exclusive Forest Hill restaurant without her, one of the many events that had been rigorously planned. Then there was her boss, Janey, who was doubtless livid at this point. Anna reached her hand across the end table, searching for the room phone to check if the lines were back up—but when she lifted the receiver, it was only dead air. Still no service.
Anna stood and walked barefoot across the cold, weirdly damp carpet until she reached the window. She yanked on the heavy curtains—which also had a slightly moist feel that made her shiver—and opened them to reveal a world so filled with snow, at first she didn’t realize the hulking lumps scattered in rows were cars in the inn’s small parking lot. There was condensation on the inside of the glass, dripping down the wall, too—which would explain the clammy feeling everywhere.Snow falls in, she thought, and grimaced. If the amount of snow out there was any indication, it didn’t look like she would be getting out of this town anytime soon, either. She couldn’t even determine which part of the winter wonderland outside was the road that led to the airport.
She dressed quickly. In the bathroom, she splashed cool water on her face and sighed at her rumpled clothes. The cocktail dress, tights, and blazer had seemed a practical enough choice—but that was before she had ended up stranded with no luggage. She was going to have to remedy her no-proper-clothes, bare-minimum-of-toiletries situation—and she was especially going to have to remedy the fact that her phone was dead, she had no charger, and she had important calls to make and an entire life to deal with. She checked her watch.No time like the present, she decided. The Forest Hill brunch would be ending soon, and Nick and his family would be heading off to a tony Christmas market to do a little last-minute shopping. She needed to figure out a way to get to Toronto as soon as possible.
Downstairs, the reception area was quiet, the front desk empty. Anna leaned over the counter and picked up the phone—but the receiver was silent, just as the one in her room hadbeen. She turned away and headed into the large lounge area of the vast lobby, where she plunked down on the ottoman closest to the crackling fireplace. From her bag, she retrieved the granola bar Kath had given her the night before and nibbled on it as she stared into the flames, trying to figure out a plan.
“I’d be looking quite sad, too, ifthatwas all I was getting for breakfast.”
“Mr. Dadu!”
“Good morning.” The patriarch was sitting to the right of the fire, tending to it with a brass poker. “Just enjoying some peace and quiet.” There was a plate beside him with some dates, granola bars, and apple slices.
“Where is everyone?”
“They’ve gone back to bed after waking at dawn for theirsuhoor,” he explained, then leaned in, eyebrows raised. “Earlier, I saw a film crew leaving. Apparently, this town is referred to as Hollywood NorthNorth—lots of films shot here—very exciting.”
“Really?” Anna said with interest. “Do you know the movie they’re working on?”
He shook his head. “No, but I could swear I saw the famous director Katrina Wakes in a hat and sunglasses.”
“Wow.”
Mr. Dadu lifted his plate of food and offered some to her.
“No, no, that’s for you,” Anna protested.
“But you look hungry,” he said.
She looked down at her half-eaten granola bar. This was true.
“Please,” he pressed. “They think I’m an invalid about to expire any second—but it’s just diabetes. They won’t even let me fast and feed me a steady stream of food all day while they abstain.” He looked wistful for a moment, then extended the plate to her again. “I miss fasting with everyone else.”
“Do you miss not being able to havewater?”
He laughed. “I miss all of it. Now come, join me. I swear, you aren’t depriving me,” Mr. Dadu insisted. “I can eat what I want all day.”
As they ate, Anna asked him to tell her what it was he missed about fasting. He told her about the sense of closeness when theummah—community—of Muslims fasted at the same time, and also about the different intentions you might set when you’re fasting, like generosity or kindness. “I give to charity to make up for not fasting, but it’s just not the same,” he explained.
“I used to fast once a year, on Yom Kippur with my stepmom.” She paused and tried to remember the exact words Beth had shared when she asked a young Anna if she’d like to try fasting with her for the holiday she observed. “Beth described it as... a day to be quiet, and search your soul for the things that need forgiving, and the things you want to go forward into the new year doing better at. Like maybe being more honest, or more generous, or more grateful. I remember it was always a cozy, quiet day for us. We both liked to keep busy—but that day, we never did. We just... were.”
“Sounds like you and your stepmother had some special times together.”
“Ex-stepmother,” Anna mumbled, staring into the fire.Then she turned her gaze to Mr. Dadu again. “Lately, all I seem to do is worry. I never let my mind slow down. I remember how everything would come into focus when I fasted with Beth. It seemed I could see exactly who I was. I miss it.”
“My Maryam is like that, too, you know. You two have a lot in common.”
“We do? It feels like we’re complete opposites.”
“It takes time to get to know the real Maryam. She’s always such a busy bee. Essential. So important to the inner workings of this family—possibly even more important than she realizes. She can be quite sweet and cuddly once you get to know her. But”—he smiled ruefully—“she has a stinger. Always has. Her dadi-ma was like that, too. Positively relentless, that woman, and drove me to distraction sometimes. But oh, how I miss her.”
Anna smiled. She imagined Maryam would not like being compared to a bumblebee, even a sweet and cuddly one, but sensed the description was quite accurate.
“Perhaps you should find Maryam and spend some time with her today,” Mr. Dadu suggested.
“Maryam clearly has a lot going on. She doesn’t need me bothering her.”
“Maryam is always so busy with us. What sheneedsis a friend—someone she can really talk to.Aboutus. About the way she is always contorting herself into what she thinks everyone else wants her to be.”
