No wonder Saima called her Bor-yam. Maybe a more accurate description would be “Always-on-yam.”
Sigh. Even her nicknames were tragic. It was a good thingshe was a pharmacist and not a writer. Somehow, that thought was the most depressing of all. As if reading her low mood, Saif sidled up to Maryam.
“I recognize that look. You’re planning your escape,” he said, voice pitched low so the rest of the wedding party chatting in the lobby wouldn’t hear.
Despite herself, Maryam smiled. “Have you taken a look outside? There’s plenty of snow, and we’re still stranded.”
“What time are we heading into town for our celebrity-stalking session?” he asked with a smile.
Despite her dark thoughts, Maryam’s mouth tilted up, andoh God, was her family watching her flirt with a man—during Ramadan—right after prayingfajr? She subtly glanced around, and just as she had suspected, Dadu was taking a little too long putting on his shoes, while her father glowered at Saif, and Saima gave her a thumbs-up. She would yell at them all later. For now...
She turned to Saif.Snow day, she thought. “Take-a-chance-yam” was a better nickname, actually. She could always use a new friend, right? “Actually, change of plans and a new development. After you went upstairs, we met Chase Taylor, who not only is staying at the same inn, but turns out to be Anna’s new friend! He invited us to be extras on that holiday movie. How do you feel about making your Hollywood debut this morning?”
Saif agreed readily, and Maryam decided on a whim to invite Dadu, too—she knew her grandfather missed his directing days and would enjoy the impromptu field trip.
At the appointed hour, the small party assembled in the lobby. “Come along, come along, we don’t want to be late. Film sets are very particular places,nah?” her grandfather said, andthen hurried out the door. With a huge grin, Saif followed Dadu.
As they walked behind the men, Saima started to sing, off-key: “Maryam and Saif sitting in a tree. Getting their nikah witnessed by the Imam and a three-hundred-person wedding party!” Thankfully, the men were far ahead, Dadu setting a fast pace considering he was six inches shorter and forty years older than Saif.
For a moment, Maryam felt pure joy. She linked arms with her sister and Anna and walked faster. No way was she letting her seventy-year-old grandfather beat her into town. Besides, after her conversation with Anna yesterday, she was curious about Snow Falls. She wanted to see this magical town that somehow supported three different Hakka restaurants.
The walk into town was rough going, and if Saif hadn’t been hovering close to her grandfather, she would have worried for him. Snow was piled several feet on either side of the skinny path carved down the sidewalk by an intrepid snowblower, requiring the group to walk in single file in some places. Maryam trailed the party, with Anna and Saima chatting amiably in front. It took them nearly half an hour to walk to the town center, mostly because of the snow, and also because they kept stopping to take pictures using the camera Saima had bought for her honeymoon. It was one of those new digital ones, and the ability to scroll through pictures on the tiny screen and delete the ones where someone’s eyes were closed (half of them) or that were not suitably flattering, was irresistible to Saima.
Soon the houses—most of them small and cozy-looking, with smoke puffing gently from brick chimneys—changed into a few storefronts, and then the street they were on led to amain thoroughfare of quaint stores dressed up in their holiday finery. Christmas sparkle festooned storefronts, and the women stopped to admire a particularly beautiful display in front of an independent bookstore that featured Nora Roberts, Maeve Binchy, Terry McMillan, Margaret Atwood, Robert Munsch, and other familiar names.
Ahead, Dadu dragged Saif inside a tiny coffee shop called Topkapi Café.
“This must be the café Josh was telling me about,” Anna said, excited. “He said there’s a prayer space in the basement for the local Muslim community. And amazing coffee and treats.” Her face fell. “You’re all fasting today and won’t be able to try the food.”
“We’ll take some home foriftarand enjoy after sunset,” Saima assured Anna. Today really did feel like a snow day, Maryam thought as she followed her sister and Anna inside. A day full of possibilities, when anything could happen. The world felt like a frozen winter wonderland, all the grime and slush wiped out by fresh powder. She raised the camera and took a few more pictures, trying to capture the gentle, if relentless, snowfall before joining the party inside. No wonder the planes were still grounded, Maryam thought. She had never seen weather like this before.
Inside, the café was decorated in reds and bright blues, with enough seating for a dozen people. A large display case dominated the front, and Saima and Anna drooled over luscious desserts: honey-soaked phyllo pastries; baklava bursting with walnuts, pistachios, and almonds; a spongy cake made from semolina and topped with bright orange strands of saffron and sugar-glazed almonds. Delicate glass cups and saucersdecorated with gold paint were arranged on the shelf behind the bar, in front of a wall of brilliant turquoise tiles painted with intricate geometric patterns. On the opposite wall, giant prints in ornate gold frames of the Aegean Sea, the Bosphorus Strait, and Islamic calligraphy decorated the space. The moment she stepped through the door, Maryam felt like she belonged. She wasn’t Turkish, but she could tell she was among friends. A young woman in a simple white hijab emerged from the back and smiled in welcome.
“Salam!I’m Sarah. Welcome to Snow Falls, uncle,” she said, addressing her grandfather before turning to the women and Saif. “My sisters, my brother. How can I help you?”
Maryam’s heart filled. This subtle acknowledgment of their shared Muslim heritage made her feel instantly at home.
Anna came forward eagerly. “I heard there was a mosque inside this café. Our flight was canceled and we landed here two days ago. I wanted to show my”—she paused as if stumbling over the word—“new friends so they could join you for prayer.”
Sarah instantly perked up at this. “Oh, you are the stranded passengers staying at Snow Falls Inn!” she exclaimed. “The fasting Muslims who ordered too much Hakka for dinner last night. Muriel from Hakka Empire is a dear friend, and she told me all about it this morning. You must join my family foriftartoday.”
The group protested, but Sarah was adamant. She only relented when they assured her that they had plenty of leftover food, but that they would join them for tea another time. In the meantime, Dadu, parched from the walk, ordered thick Turkish coffee and settled at a table to enjoy it.
“I’ll take mine to go,” Anna said. “Since we have a bit ofextra time, there’s a shop across the street I want to check out.” She shot Maryam a look, and Maryam knew she was off to source some items for the secretmehndiparty. She gave her a wink.
After Anna slipped out, they continued to chat with Sarah until the doorbell chimed and a new customer walked in. A familiar deep voice said, “One coffee please, Sarah.”
“Of course, Chase,” Sarah said without missing a beat—and Maryam turned around to admire the actor. The lighting had been dim in the hotel last night, but now she looked her fill. Chase—or should she start thinking of him as Josh?—wasn’t the most handsome Hollywood star; he lacked the obvious sexiness of Brad Pitt or the smoldering intensity of George Clooney. But he had a contained energy and charisma that drew the eye and made it linger.
“Hey, did I see Anna come out of here a minute ago?” he asked, and Maryam noticed a dimple in his cheek. Maryam nodded in response to his question and felt the beginnings of a blush when she realized she was staring.I’m fasting, she reminded herself. Beside her, she felt Saif stiffen.
Meanwhile, her sister attempted to play it cool, even as she inched closer to the actor.
“Chase—or should we call you Josh?—we met so quickly last night, I didn’t get to ask for an autograph,” Saima said, sticking a napkin and lip liner into the actor’s hands. “I’ve watchedOne Night at Christmasa dozen times. Maryam, quick, where’s the camera?”
“ ‘Josh’ is fine,” the handsome actor assured the trio. “ ‘Chase’ is my professional name.”
Saima frantically gestured for Saif to take a picture of her and Maryam posing next to the actor. Frowning, Saif snapped a few photos without warning, then stepped forward to introduce himself.
