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FENELLA

F enella stood by the penthouse windows, gazing at the sprawling cityscape of Los Angeles. In fifty years of wandering the globe, she'd somehow never made it to this city of Angels and Hollywood stars.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Jasmine appeared at her side with two mugs of coffee.

Fenella accepted the offered mug with a grateful nod. "I was just thinking about how bloody strange life is. A week ago, I was chained up in that hellhole, and now I'm standing in a luxury penthouse drinking fancy coffee." She took a sip, savoring the rich flavor. "And contemplating babysitting duty."

Jasmine laughed. "The girls are not babies. Besides, they adore you."

"God knows why," Fenella muttered, though secretly she was touched by the girls' affection, which defied logic, but then teenagers weren't the most logical of creatures.

"We need to keep them busy today." Jasmine leaned against the glass. "Otherwise, they'll just sit around like zombies in front of the screen, worrying about their families."

Fenella nodded. Distraction was a powerful tool against anxiety—something she'd learned through decades of her own struggles. "What did you have in mind? Shopping? Though I suppose they've got enough new clothes to last them a while."

"I was thinking something more touristy," Jasmine said. "Show them a bit of the city. Hollywood, maybe? Santa Monica Pier?"

"I heard that the Hollywood Walk of Fame is rather underwhelming." Fenella took another sip of the fabulous coffee. "It's just a bunch of stars on the pavement with names they probably won't recognize. Santa Monica could be nice, though. Beach, boardwalk, that giant Ferris wheel..."

"It's called the Pacific Wheel," Jasmine corrected.

"Whatever." Fenella waved her hand dismissively. "The point is, it might be nice." She looked at the four girls huddled on the couch and watching cartoons, or anime as it was called these days.

Not that Fenella knew the difference. Perhaps it was about the emo-looking characters with hair blocking one eye?

Kids these days were weird.

"Let's ask them what they want to do," Jasmine suggested. "After all, they are young ladies, not babies."

"Sure thing," Fenella waved a hand. "After you."

Jasmine walked over to where the girls were sitting and sat on the enormous coffee table, facing them. "Fenella and I were just discussing plans for today," she said. "Would you like a tour of Los Angeles?"

The suggestion brought a spark of interest to the girls' eyes.

"Where would we go?" Donya asked.

"Hollywood, maybe," Jasmine suggested. "Or Santa Monica—there's a beautiful beach and a pier with rides."

"What about Disneyland?" Laleh asked, her eyes sparkling. "I've heard it's magical."

Fenella blinked in surprise. The request seemed so normal. So innocently childlike. At sixteen, Laleh was not a child, but perhaps because she was the youngest, the others treated her as one, and she was comfortable with that.

"Disneyland is a bit far," Jasmine said. "It's about an hour and a half drive from here, depending on traffic."

Laleh's face fell, but she nodded in reluctant acceptance.

"I've never been there either," Fenella admitted, trying to soften the disappointment. "I heard about it, of course. Giant mouse, overpriced everything, and loads of screaming children." She grinned to show that she was being deliberately flippant.

"We could go to Universal Studios instead," Jasmine suggested. "It's closer, and they have the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. Have you heard of Harry Potter?"

The effect of those words was immediate and electrifying. All four girls straightened up, their eyes widening with excitement.

"Harry Potter?" Azadeh repeated, speaking up for the first time that morning. "They have a Harry Potter movie set?"

"Well, yeah." Jasmine looked surprised by their enthusiastic response. "Have you read the books?"

"All of them," Arezoo said with unexpected passion. "Twice."

"There is a Persian translation of Harry Potter?" Jasmine asked.

"Of course," Arezoo said. "We also saw the movies."

Fenella didn't ask whether those were pirated or legit. She doubted the movie version had been approved by the regime. The book translations could have been modified to appease the censors, but it was more difficult to do with movies.

"So, Universal Studios?" Jasmine asked. "We could go today if you like. Ell-rom has never been either, so it will be new for him too."

"Yes!" Laleh exclaimed, then immediately looked embarrassed by her own enthusiasm. "I mean, if it's not too much trouble."

"No trouble at all," Jasmine assured her. "Why don't you all get dressed? We can leave in about an hour, and we can have lunch in the park."

As the girls hurried back to their rooms, chattering excitedly about Hogwarts and wands and something called butterbeer, Fenella shook her head in amazement.

"Harry bloody Potter," she muttered. "Who would have thought?"

"It's perfect, actually," Jasmine said, her voice low enough that only Fenella could hear her. "Give them something magical to focus on, something that represents good triumphing over evil. They need that right now."

"Don't we all." Fenella wondered whether her brother and his children were safe.

She hadn't kept in touch because she'd gotten tired of having to invent excuses for why she couldn't visit, but that didn't mean she'd forgotten about Walter or had stopped caring.

It suddenly occurred to her that Din had no way to contact her. She didn't have a phone, and there were no landlines in either of the penthouses.

Bloody Din .

How the hell had he expected her to know he was pining after her?

Fifty years ago, she'd barely noticed him—Max's quiet, intense friend who always seemed to be lurking in the shadowy parts of the pub she'd bartended in. She'd been attracted to Max's easy charm, his obvious and intense pursuit of her, never even realizing that Din had been hanging around the pub because he fancied her.

Still, the fact that the guy had harbored feelings for her for five decades was kind of touching.

When Jasmine's phone rang, Fenella tensed, expecting bad news for some reason.

Jasmine checked the screen and frowned.

"That's odd," she said. "It's a Scottish number, and there is no caller ID. I don't know anyone in Scotland."

A jolt of adrenaline shot through Fenella. "Answer it," she urged. "It might be Din."

Jasmine accepted the call and held the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

Fenella could hear only faintly what was being said on the other side, but it was a male voice.

"Yes, she's right here." Jasmine lowered the phone and held it out to Fenella. "It's for you. It's Din."

Fenella took it, suddenly aware of her sweaty palms and the nervous energy thrumming through her body. "Hello?" she said, aiming for casual and missing by a mile.

"Fenella." His voice was exactly as she remembered it—deep and soft at the same time. Velvety.

He'd barely spoken a few words to her in the bar, and it had been over five decades ago, and yet she remembered.

"Din," she said, going for casual and indifferent .

"It's good to hear your voice," he said.

"Yeah, yours too. Do you have news about my brother?"

"I do. I just got back from Invery, in fact. Walter's doing well—retired now, living in the same house. His hair's gone white, what's left of it, but he still has that same laugh."

The mention of her brother's laugh hit Fenella unexpectedly hard. Walter had been just a teenager when she'd left—gangly, full of mischief, with dreams of becoming a footballer. Now, he was an old man, while she remained exactly as she'd been the day she walked away.

"What about his children?" she asked.

"All grown with families of their own. The eldest, Michael, moved to New York some years back. Works in finance, according to your brother. The other two are still in Scotland."

"Are they safe?"

"According to Walter, they are," he assured her. "I've had a couple of my friends check on the two that stayed in Scotland, and they reported nothing out of the ordinary. I doubt anyone went looking for Michael in New York."

Relief washed over her. At least, that was one less thing to worry about. "Thank you. How did you even find all this out?"

There was a chuckle on the other end of the line. "I used my municipal inspector disguise," Din said. "Clipboard, official-looking badge, high-visibility vest—works every time. Told him I was checking the water lines in the neighborhood. Walter invited me in for tea and started chatting away. He's a friendly sort, your brother."

"That's very ingenious," Fenella said.

Din hadn't impressed her as being particularly cunning or resourceful during their brief acquaintance fifty years ago. Clearly, there was more to him than she'd realized.

"Long life gives you plenty of time to perfect your cons," he said. "I've got a few different identities I can slip into when needed."

"Sounds like you are leading an interesting life."

"I have my moments," Din admitted. "Though I suspect mine is not as colorful as yours, from what Max has hinted at."

"Ah, so he's been telling tales, has he?" Fenella rolled her eyes, though Din couldn't see it. "Don't believe half of what that pain in the arse says."

Din laughed, the sound rich and unexpectedly affecting. "I've known Max long enough to separate fact from his particular brand of fiction."

There was a brief pause, filled with unspoken questions and five decades of distance, and Fenella found herself uncharacteristically uncertain about what to say next.

Din broke the silence first. "I'd love to talk more, but I need to finish packing. My flight leaves in three hours, and I still need to get to the airport. "

"I'm surprised, I have to admit. I mean, are you flying over just because of me?"

"I blew my chance once. I'm not going to blow it again."

The directness of his statement left her momentarily speechless. In her experience, men were rarely so forthright about their feelings—especially not Scottish men, who tended to guard their emotions as fiercely as their whiskey.

"Safe travels, then," she managed finally. "I'm looking forward to seeing you again." She snorted. "Not that either of us have changed much since we last saw each other. Not physically, anyway."

He was quiet for a moment. "I'll see you soon, Fenella." The promise in his voice sent another flutter through her chest. "Take care of yourself."

"I always do," she replied automatically.

After he ended the call, she stood staring at the phone for a long moment, trying to process the conversation and the unexpected emotions it had stirred in her.

"So?" Jasmine prompted. "How did it go?"

Fenella handed the phone back, struggling to regain her composure. "Fine," she said. "My brother's well. No sign of trouble there."

Jasmine raised an eyebrow, not buying the casual act. "How is Din?"

"Still interested."

Jasmine grinned. "That's so romantic."

Fenella shrugged. "I barely know the man. We exchanged no more than twenty words fifty years ago."

"But he's harbored these feelings for you through all this time," Jasmine insisted. "That's incredibly romantic."

"Or incredibly pathetic," Fenella muttered, though without real conviction.

"Don't be so cynical," Jasmine said. "It's okay to admit you're a little excited."

Fenella shot her a glare that held no real heat. "I'm not completely opposed to seeing him," she conceded grudgingly. "But I'm not planning our everlasting, immortal future together either."

Jasmine grinned. "Of course not. Not yet."