Page 48 of Three Holidays and a Wedding
“That scared you, I take it?” Celine asked.
“I might have changed the subject and avoided him since,” Maryam admitted.
Celine huffed out a laugh. “I’m old enough to know that even when people say they want advice, what they really want is absolution for their mistakes. So here it is: you’re allowed to react however you like. But take it from someone who’s been there, done that, and had to live with the consequences—letting the ghosts from your past haunt your present is a recipe for disaster. Don’t you remember what those spirits did to old Scrooge?”
Maryam laughed at that. “I’m no Scrooge,” she assured the older woman.
Celine patted Maryam’s arm. “I know you’re not, dear. In fact, I suspect you might be the opposite. Unlike old Ebenezer,I think you wear your heart entirely on your sleeve, and you’ve had it lacerated a time or two, which makes one wary. A good strategy, that, if you want to keep your heart safe. But I’ve found the key to happiness is to figure out who will cherish your heart, not trample it. Keep that person close.” Celine straightened. “Enough philosophizing. I actually came by to insist you stop for the day. I know you’re fasting, but I think your friend Anna could use a snack. You’re both welcome to come back tomorrow, but no more work today.”
Summarily dismissed, Maryam bent to gather her papers, then paused. She had always enjoyed “A Christmas Carol” as a child, but Celine’s comment had shaken something loose in her subconscious, and she lunged for her pen and started writing. A few minutes later, she had the beginnings of an idea, one that would lend itself well to including the three faiths in the Holiday Hoopla. She couldn’t help thinking that Saif would be the perfect person to play a major role in her play. Pleased with her progress, she made her way to Anna, who was deep in conversation with Teddy and Bruce, who sported another brightly colored scarf knotted around his neck.
“I’m thrilled we didn’t scare you off yesterday,” Bruce boomed. “Where have you been hiding this treasure? Anna, you were made to work for the stage, my lady.”
Anna blushed and thanked the men before following Maryam outside. Anna looked sheepish. “Would it be okay if we stopped by Main Street for something to eat?” she asked. “I didn’t really feel up to breakfast this morning. I know I shouldn’t complain, since you haven’t eaten since dawn, but I’m really hungry. Only if it won’t bother you.”
“Watching you eat won’t bother me at all,” Maryam said. “In fact, I insist on it. That way you can tell me what’s good, and I can bring it back to share foriftar.”
“Maybe we should clear it with the group first, or you’ll end up with leftovers for another two days,” Anna joked, linking arms with Maryam.
On Main Street, Anna ordered a pastrami on rye bread with extra pickles and hot mustard from the deli. She sipped her cherry cola as they sat outside on a bench. It was cold, but not freezing, the snow finally tapered off, the sun warm on their faces while Anna ate and Maryam kept up a stream of light chatter.
Once Anna was done, Maryam stood up, stretching. “I should go check on Dadu at the set,” she said casually. “Come with me?”
Anna got a funny look on her face. “Actually, I’m feeling pretty tired. I’m going to head back to the inn. See you later!” Without waiting for Maryam to respond, Anna took off, walking as fast as her oversized boots would allow through the foot-high snow. Josh had some explaining to do, Maryam thought as she turned in the direction of the filming.
On set, she found her grandfather perched on his own folding chair beside the director, chatting while sipping a steaming-hot tea from a cup and saucer. Maryam wondered at Dadu’s ability to make himself at home anywhere, even on the set of a holiday rom-com. Her smile vanished when she recognized the tall form hovering by her grandfather’s elbow. What was Saif doing here? He looked up and met Maryam’s gaze. Tentatively, he raised a hand in greeting, which she returned.
“Having fun?” she called out. Dadu turned in his seat, slopping tea onto the saucer.
“I was sharing stories working with the Bollywood greats, like Amitabh Bachchan, his lovely wife, Jaya Bachchan, and of course Shah Rukh Khan,” Dadu explained eagerly.
Maryam smiled at Katrina, who this morning wore oversized pink fuzzy earmuffs. “Dadu has plenty of war stories from his trenches in the Bollywood machine,” she joked, but her grandfather shook his head.
“I miss that life, but my place is in Denver, with my family,” he said, smile never wavering. “You should go back to the inn,beta, and take Saif with you. He has been hanging around for my sake only.”
“I think it’s time we all headed back,” Maryam suggested. “I could use a nap, and Mom and Dad will be upset if I return without you.” She included Saif with a nod; no doubt he had been roped into keeping her grandfather company.
With some reluctance, Dadu agreed. “Could you pick up my bag? I left it in Josh’s trailer, behind craft services.”
Saif accompanied Maryam to the trailer, and an awkward silence descended as they walked. “Thanks for keeping Dadu company. He has a tendency to throw himself into things,” she said, and Saif nodded.
“Your dadu is my dadu,” he said, smiling. “I was so sad to hear your dadi passed away a few years ago.”
Maryam kept her eyes on her feet. Even now, whenever she thought about her dadi-ma, she had to blink back tears. Her grandmother’s death hadn’t been sudden, but there also hadn’t been a lot of time between her diagnosis and palliative care. Three years later, it still felt like a fresh, open wound for thewhole family. “I still miss her,” she admitted. “I think about her all the time, but especially in December. She loved Christmas, loved having everyone at home together.” Maryam laughed. “Actually, I think she just loved my gingerbread cookies.”
Saif gently bumped her shoulders. “I bet my chocolate cookies could take your gingerbread anytime.”
Maryam’s eyes met his. “Bring it, Saif Rasool.”
“Gladly, Ms. Aziz.”
Not for the first time, Maryam marveled at the ease of their banter, their effortless chemistry. If only she hadn’t been so shy around Saif when she was younger. Maybe things would have been different, for both of them. On impulse, she turned to Saif and filled him in on her epiphany at the playhouse. His eyes lit up when she explained her idea to use “A Christmas Carol” to celebrate the tri-holidays.
“You never got a chance to make your film debut because you were helping me,” Maryam said shyly. “But you do know that serious actors consider the stage superior to the screen?”
“I had no idea you were such an acting expert,” Saif teased. “And here I thought your talents were limited to writing. Do you have an in with the production team?”
Maryam laughed. He was such a dork. “Let’s just say that when it comes to the Holiday Hoopla, all casting decisions go through me. I was wondering if you’d consider playing the Ramadan Host—instead of Christmas Ghost, get it? As a favor to me,” she added, in case he thought she was offering the part out of guilt.
