Page 20 of Yours for the Season
“Tom and I will be filming a few videos for his social media while we’re here,” Sameera said brightly. “I’m sure he’ll make something delicious to share.”
The conversation moved on, but Tom remained strangely quiet. They turned off the main road and Sameera spotted the white pickup truck with Rob, her dad, Esa, and Calvin as they entered what looked like the outer limits of a township. Sure enough, a cheerful, hand-painted sign proclaimed they were about to enter the village of Wolf Run.
Beside her, Tom shifted in his seat, and when she glanced over, she saw that he had a death grip on the door handle. She impulsively reached over and took his hand in hers. A jolt of electricity passed through her at the contact, and she nearly gasped. A static shock? He smiled at her, and her heart started to beat fast.Maybe a different sort of shock,she thought. His expression was uncertain; she was sure she looked the same. They were both in uncharted territory, and with a full audience watching their every move. A wave of frustration crawled over her skin, and part of her wanted to demand Barb drive her to the nearest bed-and-breakfast after all. She had been in Alaska for only a few hours and already felt as if she had lost control.
She remembered this feeling from when she was younger and still lived at home. It was strange how quickly she was reduced to that state of mind when she was around her parents: annoyed and impatient, her own needs and desires disregarded as her parents made plans without bothering to consult with her. She hated feeling powerless and backed into a corner.
Barb had slowed down to navigate Wolf Run’s small main street, and Sameera noticed that many of the businesses were named after the family: Cooke’s Grocery, Cooke Convenience, and Cooke Gas. Tom’s surname was everywhere.
“Do you have a lot of family in town?” Sameera asked.
Beside her, Tom shifted in his seat, and she noticed an embarrassed flush stain his chiseled cheekbones. “Dad’s an only child,” he said.
“Then why—” she started, but Barb cut in, bemused.
“Didn’t Tom tell you? The Cookes are the founding family in the village. Rob runs many of the businesses here. In fact, he’s served as the mayor of Wolf Run for nearly two decades!”
“That’s because no one else wants the job,” Tom muttered.
“He’s been talking of stepping down,” Barb said, not taking the bait. “If you’re interested in the position.” She laughed as if this were a joke, but no one else joined in.
Clearly, Sameera was missing something. She added it to the mental list she was compiling of questions to ask Tom. She decided to start with the most obvious one and leaned over to whisper, “Why didn’t you tell me you were Alaskan royalty?”
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.” He winked at her, and Sameera realized she might be in serious trouble—she was starting to genuinely like Tom.
They left the outer limits of the town, and Barb turned onto a private drive, the truck climbing a steep hill easily. At the very top, a sprawling estate came into view, and Sameera tried not to gape. Her joke about Alaskan royalty felt even more accurate.
“Welcome to Cooke Place,” Barb said, pride and delight evident in her voice. “Better than any hotel around, I can promise you that.”
The house was enormous, a sprawling three-story building that could have easily doubled as a conference center or spa, and surrounded on three sides by lush pine forests. The house faced the village of Wolf Run, like a medieval lord surveying his fiefdom, Sameera thought. A large veranda wrapped around the house, and brightly painted Muskoka chairs dotted the white wooden structure. A gravel-strewn path led from an oversize custom double-door entrance to a circular driveway that could accommodate a fleet of cars. They parked and piled out, Barb leading the way inside, where the tiled stone floor gave way to a massive sitting room with soaring thirty-foot ceilings and floor-length windowsthat looked out at a sprawling snow-covered patio. A creek bisected the property, and Sameera sighed at the beauty surrounding her. The picture before her belonged on a postcard, or maybe a screen saver.
“You grew up here?” she asked Tom, and he nodded, his body tense.
“Lucky me,” he said softly, looking around with a strange expression on his face.
“What do you think of our little shack?” Rob asked with a smile, entering the sitting room behind them and throwing his hands wide.
While Naveed and Tahsin managed to keep their composure, Esa was less discreet. “Dude, you live in a palace,” he said to Calvin, who shrugged, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“One time a moose wandered onto the back patio,” he offered. “He stared through the window of the kitchen, and Mom freaked out.”
“Awesome!” Esa said.
Sameera tried to catch Tom’s eye, but he looked away. A change had come over him since they had pulled up to Cooke Place—more like Cooke Mansion,Sameera thought wryly. In Atlanta, Tom seemed at home no matter the venue, from a stuffy law firm holiday party to the Maliks’ raucous Eid celebration to his own stainless steel commercial kitchen. Yet two minutes inside his childhood home, and he already radiated restless unhappiness. There was tension between Tom and his father, too. Sameera could see it in the way he held himself, in the careful way he stayed silent while his father boasted about the house and property.
“My great-grandfather built the original log cabin. He was a prospector, but he recognized an opportunity here. He decided to stay, found himself a wife, and built the town from the ground up. That’s why his name is everywhere. Tom is named after him—Thomas Tipper Cooke. My grandfather built this house after his businesses took off, and every generation has added to it. Someday, this will all belong to Tom and Cal,” Rob boasted.
With his hands on his hips, Rob looked like a contented king, and Tom his reluctant heir apparent. “If he ever returns home, that is,” he added.
“I’m here now,” Tom muttered. Then, as if coming out of a trance, he threw Sameera a wry half smile. “Ready to see the guesthouse where you’ll be staying?”
“Guesthouse?” Esa said, eyes wide.
“Three bedrooms, two baths,” Rob confirmed, looking smug. “Set near the woods, so it’s nice and private.”
The Malik family followed Rob, Barb, and Tom out the sliding glass doors and through the grounds, toward a small bungalow on the edge of the property. It looked different from the main house, and Rob explained that he’d had it built around the time Tom was supposed to graduate from college. “Still waiting for that diploma,” Rob said genially. “He’s only got one year left, and he knows I’ll pay his tuition when he goes back.”
“Not going to happen, Dad,” Tom said tightly. “Sameera and her family are tired. We should let them rest.”
