She had to impress Andy from their very first meeting. Everything was riding on this. “When will he be there?” she asked. She had already started pulling files, drafting a preliminary contract for her firm’s services, and preparing a slide deck. Andy wouldn’t know what hit him.
Tom made a noncommittal sound. “Hard to say. The superrich really are different from the rest of us. But he said he would be there by Christmas Eve at the latest. He’ll hear you out, I promise.”
Sameera would have to be satisfied with that, for now. Her focus would be on trying to land Andy as a client for her firm. If she could manage that, this entire trip would be worth it, and her financial problems would disappear. She had already informed her direct supervisor—a senior lawyer in her late forties named Helen—that she would be out of town for a few days for the holidays. She hadn’t been able to resist adding that she had a lead on a VIP client. Helen’s interest had been piqued. A good sign that her plan would work, because Helen was rarely impressed. This had to go well.
More surprises waited for her at the airport. For one, her parents had not packed light: Four large suitcases and a carry-on each were piled on two luggage carts, in stark contrast with her small carry-on and laptop bag. Tahsin didn’t hide her disapproval, and Sameera didn’t hide her reaction to her parents’ and Esa’s travel outfits.
“Why are you wearing Christmas sweaters?” she asked. Her family didn’t even celebrate the holidays. When she was seven, she had begged to have a Christmas tree in their living room, with a pile of presents. Instead, she had gotten a long lecture on Muslim holidays.
Her mother was still fixated on Sameera’s lack of luggage. “Alaska hasbears,” Tahsin tut-tutted. “Andsnow. How can you be prepared for both with one little bag?”
“I’m sure you’ll have enough supplies for all of us, and for Tom’s family, too,” Sameera shot back. “About your sweaters ...”
Esa rolled his eyes. “You should be more worried about what they packed in their bags,” he said.
Well, that was ominous. She figured her parents’ bags, in addition to parkas, hats, mittens, and snow boots, also contained Christmas gifts. Or what her parents considered Christmas gifts. The thought stopped her cold.
It wasn’t as if her parents were unfamiliar with the holidays. They had lived in the United States for nearly forty years, and their children had been born here. But for Tahsin and Naveed, the Christmas holidays had always been something that others celebrated. They never sent out holiday cards or hosted Christmas parties; they never decorated the house or bought gifts for their neighbors. Any festive cheer they had was reserved for the two Eid holidays, which had led to more than a few confused neighbors wondering why the Malik family distributed boxes of Indianmithaisweets during random times of the year. Sameera and her siblings had never sat on Santa’s knee and told him what they wanted for Christmas; in fact, her parents had told her Santa did not exist, and that furthermore, every gift she received was a result of their hard work and diligent savings.
Which made the holiday sweaters Tahsin and Naveed were wearing seem even stranger now. Her father and mother sported matching red sweaters with one half of a reindeer on each—Naveed had snagged Rudolph’s red nose and antlers, while Tahsin got Rudolph’s rump and the wordsMerry Merry Christmas!Her brother, meanwhile, had optedfor a bright-green-and-yellow sweater with a light-up Christmas tree and a matching Santa hat.
“What do you think?” Naveed asked now.
“Is this a joke? Are you making fun of the holidays?” she demanded.
Disappointment crossed her father’s face, and she immediately felt bad. “We thought you would like it, Sameera. Remember how you begged us for a Christmas tree when you were younger?” he said.
She did, and the memory of that, contrasted with her father’s silly sweater, felt confusing and infuriating. What could they mean by it? She wasn’t a child, distracted by bright lights and tinsel. Then she felt badly for dismissing this attempt to make her happy, however clumsy it was.
Digging inside his carry-on, he pulled out a bright-green abomination. “We even got you one.”
She stared distastefully at the itchy-looking sweater, which had a picture of a rosy-cheeked elf holding a giant candy cane. “Thank you,” she said slowly. “I’ll put it on later.”
“If I have to wear this, so do you,” Esa grumbled.
Sameera dutifully put the sweater on over her clothes. It was just as itchy and unflattering as she suspected.
“We want to make sure we fit in with Tom and his family,” Tahsin said as they walked to the checked luggage drop-off. People passing by stared, though they also gathered more than a few amused smiles. Sameera wanted to disappear. Her family had a tendency to make a spectacle everywhere they went, or that was how it felt to her. Her brother must have felt the same, because his hat was pulled low over his face, and his headphones were cranked so loud, she could hear his angry blasting music from where she walked beside him.
Once seated at their gate, Tahsin squeezed her hand. “You don’t need to be nervous. We are looking forward to meeting Tom’s family. We even brought them the perfect Christmas gifts. You will see—everything will go smoothly, inshallah.”
“Inshallah,” Sameera echoed, and tried not to notice how her mother’s face brightened at her use of the word.
Their flight was long, nearly ten hours, and she pulled out her laptop as soon as they were in the air. She didn’t look up for anything other than to request another cup of coffee from the flight attendant, despite Tahsin urging her to eat. But she was too busy perfecting her pitch to Andy and trying to catch up on work. She also read through the notes she had made on Tom and his family. Research soothed her, and she wanted to know more about her hosts.
Tom’s family lived a few miles outside Anchorage. Wolf Run, population 1,786, was a small hamlet, and Tom’s father, Robert Cooke, seemed to be a prominent local figure, judging from how often he appeared in the weekly newspaper.
After an interminably long flight, they finally arrived in Anchorage. When they emerged in the arrivals lounge, she spotted Tom immediately. Despite her exhaustion and jet lag, she felt her heart gave a traitorous leap when he smiled at her, quirking an eyebrow at her sweater. She flushed at his amusement. Dressed in faded jeans and a navy-blue cable-knit sweater that emphasized his broad shoulders and bright-blue eyes, he fixed his gaze on hers, though she noticed more than a few passersby throw him appreciative glances. She felt a blush starting, and to distract herself, she took in the trio beside him, who were holding a large banner that readWelcome, Malik Family!!!Her heart sank.
“Mom, I thought you ordered a car. Or an Uber,” Sameera muttered. She needed a shower and a latte, in that order. The last thing she wanted was to make small talk with strangers.
Her mother waved as Tom and his family approached, as if she were greeting family or old friends and not virtual strangers. “Don’t be silly, Sameera. Barb offered to pick us up, and I accepted. It was the least they could do, after we came all this way.”
“You mean, after you invited yourself to a stranger’s house in another state for the holidays?” Sameera said before turning to examine their welcome party.
The tall, bulky white man with thinning blond hair and a handsome, friendly face was clearly Tom’s father, Rob Cooke. Besidehim stood a petite Black woman who looked to be her mother’s age: Tom’s stepmother, Barb. Beside them was a boy in his mid-teens, his curly hair left natural, with light-brown skin and dark, curious eyes. With a jolt, she realized she hadn’t even asked Tom whether he had siblings.
Luckily, Rob was already performing the introductions. “My lovely wife, Barbara, and our son, Calvin,” Rob said before turning to hug Sameera, nearly lifting her off her feet.
