Three Holidays and a Wedding E-Book

Uzma Jalaluddin

• Herausgeber: Corvus
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Seitenzahl: 503

Beschreibung

SHORTLISTED FOR THE RNA CHRISTMAS/FESTIVE HOLIDAY ROMANTIC NOVEL AWARD 'Magical. The most festive book you'll read this year' CARLEY FORTUNE, bestselling author of Every Summer After One snowstorm. Two strangers. Three times the holiday magic . . . When strangers Maryam Aziz and Anna Gibson are seated next to each other on a flight - Maryam travelling to her sister's impromptu wedding, and Anna to meet her wealthy boyfriend's parents over the holidays - neither expect that severe turbulence will scare them into confessing their deepest hopes and fears to one another. Unfortunately, Maryam's lifelong crush Saif happened to be sitting two rows behind them and heard it all, including the part where she professed undying love for him. An emergency landing finds Anna, Maryam and Saif snowbound at a quirky hotel in the picture-perfect town of Snow Falls - where fate has Anna's actor-crush filming a holiday romance. As Maryam finds the courage to open her heart to Saif, and Anna feels the magic of an unexpected new love, they might just realise there's nowhere they'd rather be for the holidays. What's everyone saying about Three Holidays and a Wedding? 'The perfect cosy read' Amy E. Reichert, author of Once Upon a December 'A heartwarming celebration' Jean Meltzer, author of The Matzah Ball 'My favourite holiday romance ever!' Sara Desai, author of The Dating Plan

Leseprobe

ADVANCE PRAISE FOR

Three Holidays and a Wedding

“Uzma Jalaluddin and Marissa Stapley have joined forces to create the quintessential holiday rom-com. Set in December of 2000, when Ramadan, Hanukkah, and Christmas all fell at the same time, Three Holidays and a Wedding combines two budding romances, a massive snowstorm, unlikely friends, meddling family members, and one magical small town for the most festive book you’ll read this year. It’s a hopeful story about having the courage to open yourself to others and the journey to finding where you belong.”

—Carley Fortune, author of Every Summer After

“A sweet and touching celebration of friendship, family, faith, and of course, love, Three Holidays and a Wedding will delight readers seeking to lose themselves in the romance and magic of the season. Marissa Stapley and Uzma Jalaluddin have penned a new festive classic.”

—Lily Chu, author of The Stand-In

“The perfect cozy read that turns winter travel chaos into triple-holiday magic! Complete with a holiday movie, wedding gone awry, and small-town festivities, Uzma Jalaluddin and Marissa Stapley create a sparkling world readers will never want to leave.”

—Amy E. Reichert, author of Once Upon a December

“Three Holidays and a Wedding is the most delightful holiday romcom. Marissa Stapley and Uzma Jalaluddin have written a charming novel that explores love, happiness, and honesty with sweet and hilarious characters that will steal your heart. I devoured it!”

—Jennifer Close, author of Marrying the Ketchups

“From its very first pages, Three Holidays and a Wedding whisked me away and dropped me down, gently, into a festive fairy tale. This sweet, sparkling novel is as fun and surprising as a perfect snow day. Uzma Jalaluddin and Marissa Stapley have proven that wherever you may find yourself, community is the people you love.”

—Lauren Fox, author of Send for Me

“A heartwarming celebration of love, family and faith, Three Holidays and a Wedding tenderly explores the bonds that bring us to our best selves.”

—Jean Meltzer, author of The Matzah Ball

“Perfectly charming and heartwarming, Three Holidays and a Wedding expertly wraps three holiday traditions, two tender romantic stories, and one warm loving family in a giant feel-good wintry hug. I could not have enjoyed it more—my favorite holiday romance ever!”

—Sara Desai, author of The Dating Plan and To Have and to Heist

“Three Holidays and a Wedding was such a delight! I loved reading about Anna and Maryam, along with their families and friends, and their unexpected stay in the idyllic small town of Snow Falls. With larger-than-life memorable side characters, not one but two swoon-worthy romances, and all the diversity and acceptance I could ask for, this was truly a perfect holiday rom-com. But best of all was seeing each character learn how to be true to themselves no matter what their family, their culture, or society said they should be. This book should be a holiday classic.”

—Farah Heron, author of Kamila Knows Best and Accidentally Engaged

“Festive and fun! A one-of-a-kind swoony story that celebrates so much more than just Christmas! I absolutely loved it!”

—Chantel Guertin, author of It Happened One Christmas

“This delightful romance will have your heart humming with happiness: sweet, tender and joyful, it brings the magic of the holidays alive. An uplifting and inclusive celebration.”

—Ausma Zehanat Khan, author of Blackwater Falls

“Holy holiday! Ramadan, Hanukkah, and Christmas collide as a blizzard strands travelers from all three faiths in a tiny town that is anything but ordinary. A place where a secret crush is revealed and a coy, mysterious stranger discovers true love. Being marooned has never been more fun.”

—Zarqa Nawaz, author of Jameela Green Ruins Everything and creator of Little Mosque on the Prairie

ALSO BY UZMA JALALUDDIN

Much Ado About Nada

Hana Khan Carries On

Ayesha at Last

ALSO BY MARISSA STAPLEY

Lucky

The Last ResortThings to Do When It’s RainingMating for Life

WRITING AS MAGGIE KNOX

All I Want for ChristmasThe Holiday Swap

First published in trade paperback in the United States in 2023 by G. P. Putnam’s Sons, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLCThis paperback edition published in Great Britain in 2023 by Corvus, an imprint of Atlantic Books Ltd.

Copyright © 2023 by Uzma Jalaluddin and Marissa Stapley

The moral right of Uzma Jalaluddin and Marissa Stapley to be identified as the authors of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

Book design by Elke Sigal

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities, is entirely coincidental.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Paperback ISBN: 978 1 80546 059 6

E-book ISBN: 978 1 80546 060 2

Printed in Great Britain.

Corvus

An imprint of Atlantic Books Ltd

Ormond House

26–27 Boswell Street

London

WC1N 3JZ

www.atlantic-books.co.uk

For our families

. . . and for anyone who has ever wondered where they belong during the holidays

The sun’s light looks a little different on this wall than it does on that wall, and a lot different on this other one, but it’s still one light.

— RUMI

Once upon a time—the year 2000, to be precise— Christmas, Hanukkah, and Ramadan all fell within days of one another.

Store shelves were emptied of baking ingredients. Travel agents frantically worked overtime to book tickets home. Toys and gifts were sold in record numbers.

All around the world, there was a sense of fated, feted felicitations.

And in a crowded airport in Denver, Colorado, a group of strangers were about to board a plane. Little did they know that their lives would never be the same again . . . or that holiday miracles can happen anywhere, to anyone, no matter what they celebrate . . .

ONE

Anna

December 20, 2000Denver, Colorado

5 days until Christmas2 days until Hanukkah beginsThe 25th day of Ramadan

Anna Gibson awoke to the sound of sleigh bells ringing. She opened her eyes to see her boyfriend of six months, Nicholas Vandergrey, standing beside the bed, his blond curls still mussed from sleep. He was wearing the deep blue bathrobe she liked because it matched his eyes and a Santa hat at a jaunty angle— and he was holding a ribbon of sleigh bells.

“Good morning, most perfect woman in the world,” he said, smiling down at her. “It’s time for you to wake up.” He shook the bells, and she tried not to wince at the jangling sound. “You have to get out of bed and start this day, because it’s going to end with you landing in Toronto and joining the Vandergreys for the best Christmas of your life.” He knelt down beside the bed and stared deep into her eyes. “I love you, Anna.”

Anna found herself hoping she had remembered to remove last night’s mascara as she said, “I love you, too, Nick.”

“I can’t wait for what’s in store over the next week. I have so many Christmas surprises for you.”

“And I have so many surprises for you,” she said, sitting up in bed. “It really is going to be the perfect Christmas.” She felt a small twinge as she said the word “Christmas.” She couldn’t help it. This year, Christmas and Hanukkah fell at the same time, which brought memories of a childhood long past, when her family celebrated both holidays, no matter where they landed on the calendar. The best years were when they aligned, like this one.

Except she had a new life now. A perfect life. With Nick.

“You okay there, Anna?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Just”—she smiled at him and told a tiny lie—“happy.”

There is only one happiness in this life. To love, and be loved. Anna heard her father’s encouraging voice in her head, the way she often did. Jack Gibson had always been a big proponent of useful aphorisms—and now that he was gone, Anna was grateful for these sayings because it often felt like she still had him guiding her.

She now smiled a genuine smile. She was twenty-seven years old and on her way to a happy ending. Plus, it was wonderful, she decided, that two of her most beloved holidays were falling at the same time. She had read in the Denver Post the day before that it was Ramadan, too; this was why the stores and airports were busier than ever this year. The increased demand on travel from this rare tri-holiday season was the reason she hadn’t been able to get on the same flight as Nick, whose mother, Alicia, had booked his ticket home ages ago. As much as she had wanted to fly with her boyfriend, catching a slightly later flight gave her time to stop into the office and approve one last thing as deputy photo editor of Denver Decor magazine— and squeeze in a hair appointment before heading to Toronto. “There’s just so much festive joy and celebration floating around,” Anna said to Nick. “We’re bound to have the best holiday season of our lives, aren’t we?”

“Guaranteed,” Nick said. “Now, come on, sleepyhead. I made you some coffee. But it’s in the kitchen, meaning you have to get out of bed to enjoy it.” He winked. “I’m going to hit the shower.”

Anna waited until the bathroom door closed before she fell back on the pillow and rolled onto her side to look at the small framed photo beside the bed, taken the night they met. It was six months earlier, at the Denver Botanic Gardens. Anna’s boss, Janey Sawchuk, had come down with the flu that night and had called Anna in a panic. Someone from Denver Decor simply had to attend the Habitat for Humanity Under the Stars fundraiser, Janey insisted. Anna had plans with friends that night, but she couldn’t say no to her boss if she wanted to keep her job; Janey had a reputation for firing people on a whim.

The night of the gala, Anna had dutifully dashed off to the mall to grab the closest approximation to a gala-appropriate dress on her limited budget. She had borrowed teetering golden sling-backs from Karina, the style editor. Gia, Janey’s long-suffering assistant, had a deft hand with hair and makeup. Soon, her work friends had transformed Anna from harried office worker to upscale gala attendee. “Please make a good impression, Anna,” Janey had instructed. “Nicholas Vandergrey of Vandergrey Industries is sitting at your table—and if you play your cards right, they’ll advertise.”

At the time, all Anna had known about the Vandergrey family was that they owned one of the biggest household cleaning product companies in the world. A quick Google search told her that the company had originated in Toronto, so Anna, who had been born in Toronto, left for the gala confident that she had at least one icebreaker in her back pocket.

She had assumed Nicholas Vandergrey would be a gray-haired man in a business suit and had not realized there was a Nicholas Vandergrey Junior—who preferred to be called Nick, and was quite charming, in addition to looking very much like Scott Foley. Okay, so it was Scott Speedman who was her ultimate Felicity actor crush—but after a few glasses of champagne she had forgotten all about that. She might have even blurted out, “Has anyone ever said you look like—”

“Scott Foley?” Nick had replied. “I get that a lot. Has anyone ever told you you’re a dead ringer for Audrey Hepburn? I swear, you might just be the most perfect woman I have ever seen in my life.”

That was the first time he had called her “perfect”—but it wouldn’t be the last. After six months, even if she knew deep down inside she was nowhere close to perfect, she had almost started to believe him.

She snuggled further down into Nick’s thousand-thread-count sheets and tried hard not to think about the things she had never gotten around to telling him. The way she had been derailed by her grief over her father’s sudden death two years ago. But the mess she had previously made of her life because of grief had no place in her busy schedule today. At the gala, when Nick had asked what she had been doing before starting at Denver Decor, she had told him she had decided to be impulsive and go traveling— which was technically true. What she hadn’t told him was that she had given zero notice to her job at Colorado Interiors, then only made it as far as Paris before falling into a depression so deep she had only seen the inside of a Latin Quarter hotel room and the underside of a duvet cover for almost a month. Eventually, she ran out of money and maxed out her credit card on a plane ticket home.

“I’m so glad you went traveling and found yourself in Europe,” Nick had told her once. “Because the self you found is absolutely right for me.”

If only you knew, she would sometimes think. But it was too late to tell him now. She needed to leave the past behind— which was an easy thing to do when Nick knew so very little about who she had been before they met. The night of the gala, they had bonded over both being Torontonians at heart. “Up until a few years ago, my dad and I always went back there for a few days over the holidays,” she had told him, feeling the pull of nostalgia.

“Why did you stop going?” Nick had asked. There must have been other people at the table, but Anna didn’t remember who— she and Nick had been completely wrapped up in each other.

“My dad passed away last year,” Anna had told him. Nick had told her how deeply sorry he was for her loss. But he had not asked for details, and this became a pattern. Anna had learned that Nick did not like to dwell on unpleasantness. He felt life was for living, and the past was the past. Which was true, wasn’t it? It was a better way to live than wallowing in loneliness and misery.

“What if I promise, here and now, to take you to Toronto during the holidays?” he had asked Anna that night at the gala. She had nearly melted into a puddle on the ballroom floor— and then he had asked her to dance.

When she had relayed the story to her work friends the next day, their reactions were divided. “This is magical,” Gia had declared, swooning onto the couch in Karina’s crowded-with-fashion-samples office. But Karina had been more cynical. “I could swear I saw a photo of him in the society pages just last month, out on the town with his girlfriend, Elsa Miller. The model.”

“Well, he didn’t mention any models last night,” Anna had replied, her expression dreamy. It was clear she had fallen head over borrowed heels. Karina had patted her on the shoulder and said, “I love seeing you so happy—but keep your eyes open.” So, Anna dutifully made a weak attempt to look into Nick’s past relationships by going through newspaper back issues and asking around. Except she felt like she was testing her luck. If she looked too deeply into him, he might do the same to her—and not like what he found. So, Anna had decided to stop digging and take Nick at his word. From day one, Nick was fully committed to her. He was the perfect boyfriend, and she was the perfect girlfriend—and they were going to have a perfect life together. Which now included the most perfect Christmas ever.

Anna hopped out of bed and crossed the room to where Nick’s packed suitcase sat open. It was a marvel of rolled-up socks, neatly folded boxers and undershirts, an array of silk pajamas, ties in several colors. A heavy garment bag beside the suitcase contained his suits and tuxedo, the sort of attire that was required for a Vandergrey family Christmas. Anna knew it was all going to be dazzling—and very expensive. She felt queasy when she thought of the state of her already pathetic bank account after she bought several expensive new outfits and a thoughtful, tasteful gift for each of his family members. Growing up, she hadn’t been deprived of anything, but her family’s celebration of both Christmas and Hanukkah had been homespun rather than all store-bought. Anna, Jack, and Anna’s stepmom, Beth, had always exchanged at least one handmade gift—which, Jack always said, were the gifts that came from the heart.

Even though Anna sensed handmade gifts were not the Vandergrey style, she hadn’t been able to resist making Nick just one special thing—to show him how much she cared about him and invite him into her holiday world. This gift wasn’t one Anna necessarily wanted Nick opening in front of his family. It was humble and personal: a handmade photo album chronicling their relationship so far. It had only been six months, but there were still many photos to fit in the little album. So many that Anna had had a delightfully hard time choosing among the snaps of their weekend in New York City, their ski trip to Vail, charity balls, picnics, and dinner dates. Now, as she flipped quickly through the album, smiling back at her own grinning face, the cache of memories made her feel secure and confident in her relationship. She was nervous about meeting his family, but it was all going to work out. She carefully moved aside a pair of socks so she could slide the album into Nick’s suitcase, where he would find it later as a surprise.

Anna was the one who was surprised, though: a tiny jewelry box was tucked in among Nick’s clothes.

She shouldn’t look at what was inside; she knew that. But suddenly Anna felt consumed by the desire to know what the box contained. She had bought Nick solid gold cuff links in the shape of little stars, a loving reminder of their meeting at the Gala Under the Stars—but if Nick had bought her something far more extravagant, she would need to get him something else, too. She didn’t want to be caught unawares, embarrassed in front of his family. There was so much riding on this. Just a tiny peek, she told herself. Just so she could make sure this was going to be the most magical Christmas ever and she was not going to disappoint Nick in any way.

She flipped open the box—and gasped.

It was a square-cut diamond on a yellow gold band—just like the one Brad Pitt had once given to Gwyneth Paltrow.

An engagement ring.

For her.

Anna stared down at it and tried to slow her racing thoughts.

Nick was planning to propose over Christmas. It was so romantic!

It was also . . . so soon.

She heard the shower turn off and quickly replaced the ring in the suitcase. Then she dashed across the room and hopped back into bed, mind still reeling. She had thought about marrying Nick, many times—of course she had. You didn’t meet a Prince Charming and not fantasize repeatedly about walking off into the sunset together. But she had always assumed they’d date at least a year before getting engaged.

Was it terribly romantic that he wanted things to move fast? Or was it terri-fying?

The bathroom door opened. Anna stared up at the ceiling, trying to get her breathing to return to normal.

Nick entered the room in a towel and stopped when he saw her. “Hey. Don’t you need to get to the office, then to the airport? Today has to go like clockwork, don’t forget.”

“Right, yes, of course,” Anna said, hopping out of bed and planting a kiss on his cheek as she headed into the kitchen for her coffee.

After showering, Anna dressed in the outfit she had planned for this very eventful day as she listened to Nick in the kitchen, singing along to a Michael Bublé Christmas album piping through the many speakers in his apartment. She surveyed herself in the mirror. Her outfit was not practical for winter weather but could go seamlessly from day to night, and airport to gala: a blue silk strapless cocktail minidress paired with an oversized blazer she could shrug off and replace with the pashmina she had rolled into her handbag.

She double-checked that her own luggage was as perfectly packed as Nick’s. It was a small carry-on bag—which she and Nick had agreed was the right choice to ensure she could get out of the airport as quickly as possible. They were heading straight to a champagne reception his family was hosting in a private room at the Ritz. After that, it was off to Roy Thomson Hall for box seats at a seasonal symphony performance with a select group of family and friends. Anna couldn’t remember if they were eating dinner before the symphony or after—but she knew it was all on the schedule, printed and placed in her suitcase by Nick so she wouldn’t get confused about the swarm of activities his family had planned.

Normally, a holiday during the winter months required packing winter gear like parkas or boots, but Nick had explained there wouldn’t be time for any outdoor activities. “Not even skating at Nathan Phillips Square?” Anna had asked, thinking back to another fond memory from her days in Toronto as a child.

Nick had tilted his head quizzically, as if the thought of going skating at Toronto’s city hall had never occurred to him. Anna had decided not to pursue it—and did not suggest tobogganing on the Christie Pits slope or a wintry walk through High Park, either.

“Okay, babe, I’m heading out.”

Anna walked with Nick to the door of his spacious condo, one that overlooked downtown Denver on one side and the Rockies on the other, to give him a kiss before he left for the airport. She could still see the engagement ring in her mind’s eye, sparkling, beautiful . . . and overwhelming. She looked up into his eyes and wondered when it would happen. Would he propose to her in a stolen moment that was just the two of them? Or would he do it on Christmas morning, in front of the tree . . . and his entire family?

She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him goodbye.

“Mmm,” she murmured. He tasted like the expensive toothpaste he ordered from Italy. But he pulled away from her and frowned.

“Coffee breath,” he said with a shrug. “Hope you didn’t pack your toothbrush already.” Then he put his hands on her shoulders and held her firmly. “Okay, so remember. Clockwork. I’ll see you later at Pearson.” This was Toronto’s main airport.

“Of course. Got it. I have the schedule,” Anna said, lowering her head as she spoke because she now felt self-conscious about the coffee breath. But as she ducked her head, she nestled into his chest for a moment and listened to the beating of his heart. This was going to be the best Christmas. She just had to get through one morning of work, grab a taxi to the airport, fly to Toronto—and then the fairy-tale holiday season would begin. She looked up at Nick again and smiled. “Everything is going to be perfect.”

“It has to be,” Nick said, patting her on the head, then releasing her. “Now, one last thing. I have a surprise for you before I go.”

Anna felt light-headed. It was happening already. If this was going to be the big moment, maybe that was a relief— because, she realized, her hands suddenly slick with sweat, she didn’t know what she was going to say. Maybe she could ask for a little time to think. Maybe they could have some time to talk about it. “There is no more lovely, friendly, and charming relationship, communion, or company than a good marriage,” Anna had watched her dad write in a wedding card to a pair of friends once, quoting Martin Luther. Marriage was a serious thing; she had been raised to believe this. It was not something to be taken lightly—or said yes to on a whim. She loved Nick and felt almost sure she wanted to spend her life with him. But her heart was now beating so fast she was near panic.

Nick was down on one knee. Anna squeezed her eyes shut.

Then she realized he was touching her feet. She opened her eyes and saw that he was taking shoes from a shoebox. And not just any shoebox: this one bore the distinctive Manolo Blahnik name.

“A present already?” she managed through her breathless relief. “But it’s not even Christmas morning yet . . .”

Dismay rushed in. She had messed things up already. Her pre-Christmas gift, the little photo album she’d made for him, tucked into his suitcase, was a sweet idea—but in comparison to a pair of Manolos, the photos were just embarrassing. “I don’t know what to say . . .”

“You could start with ‘thank you.’ ” He placed the first shoe on her foot, then the second. They were blue satin pumps and matched the color of her cocktail dress exactly; each toe sported a light silver crystal square buckle; the heel was a high stiletto.

“They’re gorgeous! Thank you!”

“Now you really are going to look absolutely perfect.”

Anna bit her lip. She had no room for these in her suitcase, and had been planning to wear shoes with a lower heel that were easier to walk in. She had so many places she needed to go today. But how could you say no to Manolos? She’d just channel her inner Carrie Bradshaw.

She kicked out one of her feet. “Perfect fit.”

“Perfect everything.” He checked his watch. “And on that note, I should go so I don’t miss my flight. See you tonight— but call me when you get to the airport and let me know everything’s on track. Don’t forget, my mother is a very exacting woman. Nothing can go wrong.”

Anna’s smile faltered, but Nick didn’t notice. The door clicked shut and he was gone.

TWO

Maryam

December 20Denver International Airport

Maryam. Maryam beti. Look around. The most perfect time of year, nah?” Dadu said.

Beside her grandfather, Maryam Aziz nodded but didn’t look up. She was too intent on herding—there really was no other word to describe it—her parents and grandfather through Denver International Airport while maneuvering the leaning stack of suitcases piled on their overstuffed luggage cart.

Dadu, Maryam’s paternal grandfather, reverted to a happy child during the holidays. A slightly wizened, five-foot-seven child, with a pot belly and a lined but beaming face. He was dressed now in a festive bright red cardigan, green corduroy pants, and shiny brown patent leather loafers. The woolen scarf around his neck was decorated with smiling snowmen and the words “Merry Christmas” embroidered in bright green at the edge—a gift from their next-door neighbor Mrs. Lyman. Maryam suspected the widowed seventy- five- year- old grandmother had a small crush on her dadu. The irony, of course, was that neither their Muslim family nor Jewish Mrs. Lyman actually celebrated Christmas.

But this year was different. This year Christmas, Hanukkah, and Eid—the celebration at the end of the Muslim month of Ramadan—would all fall within days of one another for the first time in over three decades. As a result, the decorations, songs, and general good cheer hit Maryam a little differently; she was almost thirty-one years old, and this was the first time she had felt included in the various holiday traditions she had witnessed her entire life. Her grandfather, meanwhile, had been absolutely giddy at the tri-holiday convergence, and made sure to gift the entire neighborhood and his friends from the mosque with brightly wrapped boxes of Indian mithai sweets and candy canes before they left for Toronto for her younger sister Saima’s wedding.

“Beti, you’re not looking! See the tree? And they are playing your favorite holiday song.” Sure enough, the strains of “All I Want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth” could be heard faintly above the sounds of thousands of frazzled passengers. Maryam flushed.

“I liked that song when I was six, Dadu,” she muttered, but obliged him by admiring the thirty-foot tree in the middle of the departures lounge. It was decorated with white fairy lights and giant red, silver, and gold ornaments. A serene angel, garlanded in lace, a delicate halo of gold adorning her dark brown hair, graced the top of the tree.

“She looks like your dadi-ma,” her grandfather said, referring to his late wife. They were silent for a moment, both lost in memories. Her grandmother had passed away a few years ago. This was the first trip Dadu had taken since, adding to the pressure Maryam carried today.

Not that she needed any more pressure. With a quick glance to make sure her parents, Ghulam and Azizah, were following, she cut a path through the packed crowd.

“So much happiness,” Dadu sighed. “Plus, a wedding as well! How blessed we are, yes?”

Maryam pushed the luggage cart and tried not to panic. When her younger sister, Saima, resident family nomad, had impulsively announced her engagement to a virtual stranger named Miraj Sulaiman six weeks ago, followed by the happy couple’s intention to tie the knot during the last ten nights of Ramadan, her parents had predictably freaked out. While Maryam worried over her sister’s hasty decision to marry, her parents, once they were assured that Miraj was also a medical doctor and the son of a prominent Toronto family, were more concerned about the logistics of the wedding.

“You can’t get married during Ramadan,” Azizah said. “Ramadan is for fasting, family, and prayer, not parties, dancing, and shopping!”

“We’re getting married on December 25, and that’s final,” Saima said firmly. She had called them from Sierra Leone, where she was completing her two-year tour with Doctors Without Borders. Leave it to her sister to find true love in the middle of a war zone. “It’s the only time that works for both of us. Besides, Muslims get married on Christmas all the time! Even Maryam—” she started, but came to an abrupt halt.

“Muslims marry on Christmas because it’s convenient. Everyone is at home anyway. Nobody gets married during Ramadan!” Azizah said, ignoring Saima’s comment. “I absolutely forbid it.”

“Miraj and I are heading back to Sierra Leone in January. I’m sure you wouldn’t want us to travel without a nikah. What would people say?”

Maryam had to hand it to her baby sister: hitting their parents with the double whammy of sacrificing-doctor and log kya kahenge, what would people say—as in, every desi parent’s horror over becoming the next item on the community rumor mill— was pure genius.

“This wedding will not happen during Ramadan—” Azizah repeated.

“Fine. If you don’t care to come to my wedding, we’ll just get married in Sierra Leone. There’s a mosque near my hostel, I can arrange a nikah tomorrow—” Saima started, causing her mother to squawk in outrage.

“Should I call my good friend Shah Rukh Khan to mediate this discussion?” Dadu offered. In another life, Dadu, aka Mohamed Ali Mumtaz Aziz, had been a hotshot Bollywood director for some of the biggest blockbuster hits of the ’70s and ’80s. Which he managed to bring up in every single conversation.

Still, Azizah wasn’t going to give up without a fight, even if it had been a while since their family had a reason to celebrate. Maryam knew she was partly to blame for why log kya kahenge was so effective on her scandal-shy parents.

“Beta, be reasonable. Ramadan is only six weeks away. How can you organize a wedding while you are in Sierra Leone treating patients? And you know December is the busiest time of year at the pharmacy; plus, we will all be fasting . . .” Her mother trailed off into meaningful silence, and Maryam recognized her cue. Everyone in the family knew how this conversation would end: with Maryam stepping in to solve all the problems, as usual.

“Don’t worry about anything, Saima,” she said. “I can coordinate the wedding details from Colorado.”

“But nobody gets married in Ramadan,” her mother tried one last time.

“It will be a small nikah, only close family and friends,” Maryam assured her. “The important thing is that Saima found someone who makes her happy.” She paused, wondering if now was the time to press the point. “You are happy? This feels rushed.”

“Relax, Bor-yam, I’m happy. I promise,” Saima laughed. Maryam stiffened at the nickname but didn’t push back. Also as per usual.

“Maryam beta, I will ask A. R. Rahman if he can DJ the wedding—it’s the least he can do after I jump-started his career,” Dadu said, referencing the world-famous Grammyand Oscar-winning composer best known for his ’90s Bollywood bangers.

Maryam smiled at her grandfather and patted him on the shoulder. “I can handle this on my own,” she said. “In fact, I think organizing Saima’s Ramadan wedding will be fun!”

Famous last words, Maryam thought sourly now as she inched past a large travel party heading to Disney World, complete with matching T-shirts and Mickey Mouse hats. While Saima was thankfully not a bridezilla, coordinating with Miraj’s family in Toronto had turned out to be a nightmare.

So far, Saima’s future in-laws hadn’t lived up to a single Canadian stereotype: they didn’t punctuate their conversations with “eh,” they disdained Tim Hortons, and they had no desire to be friendly to their brand-new American family. In fact, for the first two weeks following her sister’s engagement, she couldn’t even reach them on the phone.

When Maryam finally got hold of Miraj’s mother, the woman’s first order of business was to emphasize how important their family of doctors were in the Toronto Muslim community, followed by a third-degree interrogation about the Aziz family. After Maryam admitted to being a pharmacist, Saima’s future mother-in-law reassured her it was never too late to return to school, especially since it was much easier to get into medical school in the United States. Apparently, they were far more selective in Canada.

Then she dumped all the wedding planning on Maryam, reasoning that since she was still single at nearly thirty-one (“Do they not have any suitable boys in Colorado, and is that why your sister went husband-hunting in Sierra Leone?”), she had nothing better to do.

And Maryam had thought Canadians were supposed to be nice.

By the time she arrived at the airport, Maryam had had just about enough of her family, Miraj’s family, and the world in general. The only person who hadn’t been irritating her was Dadu, and even he was testing her patience at the moment.

She gave the precariously loaded luggage trolley, piled high with half a dozen carry-on bags, an extra hard push in her frustration. Her family were overpackers in the best of circumstances, and for a whirlwind wedding with three formal events— mehndi, nikah, walima—plus the gifts they had bought for Miraj’s family, they had outdone themselves. They had paid extra when they checked in their luggage, but still had plenty to carry on.

Why did Saima do this to us? she thought again, after she pulled Dadu back from tripping over a stroller while making funny faces at a toddler.

Maryam wasn’t normally resentful. Usually she was calm, patient, and responsible. Dadu called her “the Unflappable Maryam Aziz.” It was just that at this moment, she longed to flap away somewhere quiet, such as a cabin in the woods, or a deserted island in the South Pacific, or even a tiny town in the middle of nowhere.

Anywhere but Denver International Airport, five days before Christmas, in the middle of a tri-holiday maelstrom, while she was fasting. She hadn’t eaten since five that morning, and her stomach felt cramped with hunger. With the two-hour time difference, by the time they arrived in Toronto, she would have gone without food and water for over fourteen hours. Nothing she wasn’t used to, of course—she had started fasting at the age of ten—but she could have used a shot of caffeine right now. In an IV drip, preferably.

Their little party was also attracting more than their fair share of attention, she noticed. She could feel curious, interested, bored, and occasionally hostile eyes resting on her hijab, and on her father’s long salt-and-pepper beard.

She had started to wear the hijab last year. While her mother only occasionally drew a dupatta shawl over her head, and Saima didn’t observe the head covering at all, Maryam had felt strongly compelled to start wearing the traditional head covering, and she was still getting used to the unwelcome extra attention it caused.

A young white woman passed them, the heels of her sky-high, expensive blue satin stilettos clicking as she pulled a chic cream- colored suitcase behind her. Her caramel- highlighted brown hair was perfectly blown out, the edges carefully curled so they framed her face. The high cheekbones of her triangular face emphasized large brown eyes, a ski-slope button nose, and a wide smiling mouth. She jostled the leaning tower of suitcases in her haste, forcing Maryam to reach out a hand to steady them, glaring at the oblivious woman’s back.

“Come along, Maryam beta, our flight leaves soon,” Ghulam called. “I have been watching the Weather Network, and they are calling for snow in Toronto.”

“We’re flying to Canada. Isn’t it always snowing there?” Maryam grumbled, but she leaned her shoulder into the luggage cart and followed.

She spotted brunette Barbie again at the security line; the other woman sailed through without any “random” security checks or secondary screening. Meanwhile, the security officer spent a good three minutes comparing the admittedly unflattering picture in her American passport to her face, and she could hear the entire line audibly groan when she started piling luggage onto the scanner bed.

In contrast, the young woman was already halfway across the departures lounge, chatting intensely on a little flip phone. People with cell phones were so annoying. Maryam was positive they were a passing fad, and renewed her vow to never buy one.

When the Aziz family entourage finally made it to their gate, Maryam collapsed onto a seat, feeling as if she had run a marathon. She was pretty sure she had sweat through her white blouse, too. She idly scanned the crowd—and her gaze snagged on a familiar face. Maryam did a double take. It couldn’t be. Heart pounding, she chanced another quick peek at the young man seated a few rows away.

Sharp jaw, large brown eyes, dark curly hair flopping over his forehead, and dressed in a travel-sensible black hoodie and blue jeans, Saif Rasool looked impossibly handsome. She hadn’t seen him in nearly five years, since he had moved to California after law school. The son of her mother’s best friend, he was also her forever-unrequited childhood crush, so of course it made sense that she would bump into him now.

Not that it mattered—Saif likely couldn’t pick her out of the crowd. She was just another one of the daughters of his parents’ friends he nodded at vaguely during dawaats, dinner parties. Whereas she had been in love with him, on and off, since she was twelve years old.

In all the times Maryam had fantasized about casually bumping into Saif outside of their family orbit, she was always effortlessly chic, her makeup on point, hijab tied just so—not in her current sweaty, cranky, caffeine-deprived state. In an effort not to draw his attention, Maryam carefully maneuvered so that only her side profile faced Saif, and cast her gaze behind her, straight at beaming brunette Barbie.

Clearly, God was testing her.

“You sure have a lot of bags,” the young woman remarked, not bothering to keep her voice down as she slid her phone back into an expensive-looking handbag, all friendly smiles and dimples. Maryam bet this woman wouldn’t turn a perfectly curled hair if she bumped into her childhood crush at the airport. Who was she kidding? She bet all of brunette Barbie’s childhood crushes serenaded her via acoustic guitar, like Adam Sandler in The Wedding Singer, professing their lifelong adoration.

“My family considers the two-bag limit more of a suggestion than a hard-and-fast rule,” Maryam replied.

The pretty woman laughed loudly. From the corner of her eye, Maryam could have sworn Saif looked up.

“Would you mind keeping your voice down?” Maryam hissed.

“Why?” her unwitting conversational partner asked, brows furrowed.

“Because . . . because . . . my grandfather is sensitive to high-pitched noises!” Maryam said in a rush.

The woman was unfazed. “Is that your grandfather talking over there? He’s so cute! My grandfathers both passed away when I was little, and I didn’t get to know them at all. Hi, I’m Anna,” she added, extending her hand.

“Maryam.” The women shook hands, and though Maryam hated making small talk, this conversation was a good distraction from wondering whether Saif had noticed her yet, and if she should hide behind the Christmas tree until their flight departed.

“I saw you and your family in the departures lounge. Your parents?” Anna asked, nodding at Ghulam and Azizah seated behind Maryam. She glanced again at the luggage piled around Maryam. “And those must be all the bodies you’re smuggling across the border, right?”

Anna laughed that musical laugh again, and Maryam looked around uneasily. A few of the other passengers had looked up at the words “smuggling” and “bodies.” Barbie really didn’t seem to get it.

“That’s not funny,” Maryam said. “You do realize we’re traveling while brown and Muslim, right? You could get us into trouble with that sort of talk.”

Instantly, Anna clapped a hand to her mouth, her pretty brown eyes rounding in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry!”

Maryam stood up. She needed to take a breather, get some space from Saif and from Anna, too. It was also probably time for her diabetic grandfather to have a snack before his blood sugar dipped.

When Maryam returned a few minutes later with a fruit smoothie, she stopped in her tracks. Instead of Anna disappearing, as Maryam had hoped, she was cheerfully chatting to Maryam’s parents and Dadu.

“Yes, first time flying to Toronto. Our daughter is getting married to a surgeon,” Azizah boasted.

Anna, noticing Maryam’s approach, grinned at her. “You didn’t tell me!” she said, beaming. “I’m flying to Toronto to meet my boyfriend’s family. I guess we’re both taking a huge plunge!”

“I’m not getting married,” Maryam said, handing the snack to her grandfather.

“Our younger daughter, Saima, is the dulan, the bride. She’s a doctor, too! She and Miraj both work for Doctors Without Borders,” Azizah explained proudly. Maryam felt her chest expand at this descriptor—she really was so damn proud of her little sister. Even though Saima’s impulsiveness was hard to deal with, the thought of seeing her sister again filled her with joy. They were close, and when Saima was at home, they spent a lot of time together. It had been too long since her last visit.

“If you’re all flying into Toronto together, where is your sister?” Anna asked, turning to her.

Maryam glanced at her watch. Saima’s connecting flight should have landed by now. The plan had been to meet at Denver International and fly to Toronto together. Saima had insisted on stepping foot on Canadian soil with her family.

An announcement interrupted her response: “Flight AC7164 with nonstop service from Denver International to Pearson International in Toronto, this is a special announcement. The inbound flight has been delayed due to weather. The new departure time is fifteen hundred hours.”

Maryam looked at her parents. Since they had elected to fast today, despite the difficulty of doing so while traveling, this new delay meant they would have to break their fast in the air, and not in Toronto, as they had originally planned.

“I’ll go pick up some meals,” Maryam said, resigned. “I’m sure Saima is calling Miraj from a pay phone. I’ll look for her, too.” At least this additional errand would be another distraction from Saif. But when she glanced over, she saw he had disappeared. With any luck, by the time she returned, Anna would be gone, too.

While in line for takeout, Maryam caught sight of her sister at the duty-free shop, rubbing perfume on her wrists. She waved, and her little sister ran to her, clasping her tightly in a hug. She smelled strongly of some heavy floral fragrance, and Maryam wrinkled her nose, even as she held on tightly to her sister. Laughing, Saima released her, sticking her wrist under Maryam’s nose.

“It’s called Happy, don’t you love it? So sweet and floral!” Saima said.

Maryam recoiled at the scent, which was even stronger now that they were facing each other.

Her sister laughed. “Right, I forgot. Bor-yam can’t stand to smell the roses.”

That nickname again. Bor- yam— boring Maryam. “Actually, I’m allergic to roses, not to enjoying things . . .” Maryam started.

Saima grinned and Maryam stopped, realizing she was being teased. Saima was four years younger, but aside from a similar arch to their full dark brows, they looked nothing alike. Where Maryam was the tallest person in their family at five foot eight, Saima was a petite five foot two. Maryam’s complexion was light tan year-round, whereas Saima’s skin was a few shades darker, her face rounded, a contrast to Maryam’s pointed chin, thin lips, and large dark eyes. Saima had full lips and smaller eyes that perpetually sparkled with mirth and mischief. Dadu called the sisters his “Grumpy/Sunshine,” and though Maryam had tried to tell him that term was a popular romance trope that did not apply to siblings, she had to admit it also captured their sisterly dynamic. Maryam had spent most of their childhood feeling both exasperation and deep affection for Saima, usually at the same time. For a trained medical doctor who worked in some of the most conflict-ridden places on earth, her sister often treated her family with a flippant manner that bordered on immaturity. Maryam had been surprised to hear from her sister’s medical school classmates that Saima was often praised for her steadiness during emergencies.

“How is the wedding planning going? What are you wearing? Oh God, I hope you talked Mom out of that hideous orange sari. I know we’re Hyderabadi and addicted to bling and bright colors, but there is a limit,” Saima chatted happily, barely stopping to take a breath. Sort of like the overfriendly Anna, Maryam thought as she listened to her sister prattle. Within fifteen minutes, their to-go bags were ready, and the sisters returned to their gate, where her family waited to greet their returning daughter.

Azizah clutched at Saima as if she would never let go of her younger child, Ghulam wiped tears of happiness from his eyes, and Dadu beamed at them all.

“It is so wonderful to have the entire family together again after so long,” he said happily.

Maryam looked up and caught Anna, now seated a few rows over, watching her family with a wistful expression on her face.

“Where are your seats?” Saima asked, pulling out her plane ticket. Maryam proudly showed her the four seats she had booked in Economy Plus.

Her sister made a face. “I bought my ticket too late—I’m at the back of the plane. Plus, I’m stuck with an aisle seat. Aisle seats are the worst.” Saima looked hopefully at Maryam, but before she could say anything, their father broke in.

“The dulan can’t be stuck at the back of the plane. You will take my seat, beta—your sister made sure our seats have extra leg room so we can be comfortable and avoid leg cramps on the flight,” Ghulam said gallantly.

Maryam sighed. “Dad, that’s okay. I’ll switch seats with her. I prefer aisle seats anyway.”

Her sister grinned, reaching across to give her a side hug. “I missed you all so much! Can you believe I’m getting married in five days in Canada?”

The passengers started to board, and Maryam helped her parents and Dadu collect their carry-on luggage and food, before waiting for her group to be called—last, of course.

Anna stood a few feet away, talking on her flip phone again. She looked far less cheerful and perky than she had earlier. Maryam didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was clear Anna was having an intense discussion.

“No, I completely understand. It all has to run like clockwork. Which is exactly why I only packed a carry-on, as we discussed. To be prepared for any eventuality. Like this one. I know, but—” Her brows were furrowed with concern. “Yes, but I can’t really do anything about a plane delay. I’m sure your mother is upset, but none of this is my fault!” Her voice rose, and then, as if remembering she was in public, she seemed to struggle to rein in her emotions. “The minute we land, I’ll grab the first cab I see. I’ll meet you there. I’ll probably only be a tiny bit late for the cocktail party, no one will notice.” Another pause, then: “Okay, so your mother will notice, but no one else. I really should go. Love you. Bye.” Anna hung up, and Maryam caught her eye.

“Your boyfriend sounds like a real stickler for time,” she said, sympathetic.

Anna stiffened. “Actually, he can’t wait to see me. I think it’s sweet.” She marched ahead and joined the queue to board the plane without a backward glance.

Realizing she must have hit a sore spot, Maryam made sure to wait a few minutes for Anna to get ahead of her before joining the line. It didn’t matter, in any case; it was unlikely they would ever meet again. In a few short hours, her family would arrive in Toronto, ready to launch her baby sister’s wedding and then celebrate Eid. A wave of excitement caused her lips to lift in a smile—her first genuine one since she had woken up before dawn. This really was the most wonderful time of year, and she couldn’t wait for all the joy and adventure waiting around the corner.

THREE

Anna

December 20Denver International Airport

Okay, so where were we?” Anna tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear—hair she had just that morning paid a small fortune to have layered and highlighted to perfection. Style inspiration: Rachel Green, from season six of Friends. She smiled up at the tall, sandy-haired flight attendant who was explaining that she was going to have to hand over her suitcase to him, even though she had managed to bring her miniscule suitcase all the way to the very front of the line. She was so close, she could see the plane just beyond the gates. Anna gently interrupted his passive-aggressive yet still cheerful monologue.

“But it’s carry-on size,” she said, maintaining her smile and spinning the cream leather case 360 degrees on its little tan wheels. “And it’s ten pounds underweight. You won’t even notice it’s there.” Anna prepared to step forward and board the plane. With her precious case containing her capsule wardrobe for four days of upscale holiday celebrations and all the expensive gifts for the Vandergreys: a cashmere scarf for Nick’s father, a custom flask for his brother, a statement collar necklace for his mother, chandelier earrings and butterfly brooches for his sisters.

“I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.”

“Please. I’ve gone full-on Mary Poppins here. You don’t understand how much I’ve managed to fit into this bag. I need to carry it on.” But the flight attendant was still standing in her way, and he wasn’t smiling anymore.

“I’m sorry, miss, but there simply isn’t room on board for one more piece of carry-on. Not even . . .” He glanced down at the case and did not, in Anna’s opinion, give it the respect it was due when he finished his sentence with “that.” Anna could hear some throat-clearing behind her and knew the other passengers were getting impatient.

“But I don’t have time to wait at baggage claim when we arrive in Toronto.”

“Miss—”

“Please. My boyfriend’s mother is already having a meltdown about the plane delay because she is a very exacting woman— and to top it all off, my boss is now waiting for me to fax her a magazine layout change approval as soon as I land, and . . .” Anna trailed off, desperate for a convincing closing argument. It was all true: despite the fact that she had gone into the office that morning to approve the photo layouts for the New Year issue of Denver Decor, Janey had changed her mind about the Malone Mansion spread layout when Anna was halfway to the airport. It had been all Anna could do not to tell Janey that she quit, that Janey could keep her job, with all the hoops she made Anna jump through and unreasonable requests she made—but Anna needed the job. She had debts to repay, and she had to keep on being able to pretend she was the perfect woman Nick believed her to be.

“I had a plan, don’t you see?”

His voice was as ice-cold as the snow falling outside now. “You’re going to delay the flight even more. Please hand me your bag and move along.”

Anna felt anxiety stirring like a flock of birds in her chest, ready to take flight along with the plane. She lifted the case into her arms and held it as if it were a small child. “I’ll keep it on my lap.”

“It is against safety protocols to keep a case of that size on your lap, and there is no more room on the plane for a carry-on. Unless you’d like to take a different flight—which I do not recommend, because there’s already a lot of snow out there and the flight crew has let me know we need to get moving immediately—please give me your suitcase now, and I will check it for you”—he said this as if he was doing her some sort of favor—“and you will see it when you arrive in Toronto in about five hours, if we’re lucky.”

“If we’re lucky? What’s that supposed to mean?!” Anna was a nervous flier already and his grim words had not instilled much confidence. But there was no way she was forgoing this flight because of fear. She needed to get to her seat and pop the Dramamine tablet she had determined would make her drowsy enough that her in-flight nerves wouldn’t be an issue, but not so sleepy that she’d be bleary-eyed for the Vandergreys’ cocktail party. “Fine,” she said under her breath, handing over her case. She stepped forward to board, reflexively lifting her hand to touch the plane’s smooth white door exterior for luck.

The little ritual calmed her somewhat. She settled into her aisle seat on the cramped plane. Her seatmate hadn’t arrived yet, so she still had an unobstructed view of the feather-like snowflakes falling outside. As she watched them, she felt her anxious thoughts and feelings begin to retreat. The world looked like a Christmas movie set: a world where, despite a few hiccups, everything was going to work out and a happy ending was guaranteed.

And, Anna told herself, determined to remain positive, she now had a few hours of uninterrupted time to indulge in a favorite pastime: reading magazines about home decor and movie stars, people with perfect lives that were nothing at all like hers. The ideal escape from worrying about the delay and the blizzard. She riffled through her handbag, in which she had packed all the magazines she hadn’t had time to read this month, everything from People to Architectural Digest.

As she flipped through People, her roving gaze landed on a small piece with the headline “Happily Ever After.” The accompanying photo showed two actors—the gorgeous and talented Hollywood “It girl” Tenisha Barlowe and a handsome actor Anna hadn’t heard of, Chase Taylor. The two were locked in an embrace in a romantic-looking, snowy, small-town setting.

on the set of Two Nights at Christmas, the big-budget sequel to cult favorite One Night at Christmas. Hollywood and the rest of the world are completely abuzz over Two Nights— and rightly so! Never before has a story that started on the Heartline Channel ended with Nora Ephron penning the sequel for Universal Studios.

“We’re trying to keep the spirit of the original movie, while of course putting our own spin on the story and the cinematography,” sources close to the famed screenwriter said recently, speaking from the undisclosed location (rumored to be in Canada) where the movie is now being shot. Production in upstate New York had to be shut down last month when the set was overrun by fans and paparazzi, causing extensive delays and disruptions. While the shoot is now rumored to be woefully behind schedule, things are said to be back on track for a Christmas 2001 release.

Anna sighed happily as she read. Even though she knew it couldn’t possibly be anything other than a film set, just looking at the stills for Two Nights at Christmas, she couldn’t help but wish it was a town she could visit. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to celebrate Christmas in Toronto with Nick and his family. But it all just felt like so much. Plus, there was that engagement ring sparkling in her mind’s eye to consider. She looked down at the happy couple on the magazine page. You love Nick, she reminded herself. You’re just having cold feet.

Anna’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing beside her.

“Excuse me? I think you’re in my seat.”

Anna looked up to see the young woman she had met in the airport earlier, the one with the intense, wide-set brown eyes framed by thick, dark lashes. A soft-looking navy blue cotton scarf completely covered her hair. Her small Cupid’s bow mouth was turned down in a frown.

“Maryam! Hi!” Anna knew she hadn’t been at her best with Maryam earlier, when she’d just finished having a tense conversation with Nick. She felt guilty about this and hoped she could make up for it now. “What a lucky coincidence, we’re seatmates!”

“Yeah. Lucky,” Maryam said, but Anna got the sense she didn’t really feel that way at all. “So . . . my seat?”

Anna put away her magazine and fumbled in her handbag for her plane ticket. When she double-checked, she realized that she was indeed in the wrong spot.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I hate it when people do that. You’d think I’d know the difference between A and B. I’d much rather have the window, wouldn’t you? Sure you want to switch?”

“Completely sure.”