Page 35

FENELLA

J ackson pulled up in front of a charming two-story building, with the café occupying the lower portion, but the sign didn't say Nathalie's Café or Ruth's Café. It had a guy's name, which was confusing.

"Is this the right place?" Fenella asked Jackson. "It says Fernando's Café."

"That was Nathalie's stepfather. It was his place, and she didn't change the name when she took over."

Fenella had a feeling that there was a story there, but this wasn't the time to hear it. Or maybe it was?

Kyra's sisters could use a distraction, and what better way to take their minds off what had just happened than a good story about someone else?

When they walked in, they were greeted with a warm smile by a petite, dark-haired woman and the enticing aromas of coffee and baked goods.

"Jackson filled me in," she said without preamble. "You've had quite the afternoon. Sit wherever you're comfortable. Coffee is on the house, and I'll bring out a selection of sandwiches." She smiled at the sisters. "Any dietary restrictions?"

They exchanged glances, and then Soraya lifted her chin. "None. We don't accept any more restrictions apart from those we find morally justified."

Yasmin grimaced. "I don't want to eat pork. I have nothing against the rest of you eating it, but it just grosses me out. Pigs are filthy."

Fenella shook her head. "It's a common misconception.

They like to wallow in mud to regulate their body temperature because they don't have many sweat glands, but if given a choice, they keep their environment clean and do their business away from where they sleep.

That being said, I don't eat pork either because pigs are as smart as dogs, and you can actually keep them as pets. But to each her own. I don't judge."

Ruth smiled. "There are plenty of other options that would delight any palate."

"Thank you," Soraya said.

After all the ladies had squeezed into a large corner booth and Jackson pulled a chair up to the table, Soraya let out a breath. "Look at us. We are practically rebels." She turned a fond smile at Kyra. "You are no longer the only one."

Kyra chuckled. "I've noticed, but you don't have to abolish all the traditions you grew up with at once. You can take your time and get rid of them slowly."

"I don't do slow." Soraya straightened her back. "It's just not how I'm made. I like to think of myself as decisive and assertive, and after spending a lifetime resenting the restrictions that have been placed upon me, I don't want to wait to shrug them all off."

Fenella regarded her with a sardonic smile. "Does that include letting Arezoo go to the perfectly safe Hobbit Bar in the perfectly safe village?"

Soraya swallowed. "She's too young to be going to bars. The drinking age in California is twenty-one, isn't it? Arezoo is only nineteen."

That was a good argument, but Fenella was ready with a retort.

"In Scotland, the drinking age is eighteen, and in other places it's even younger than that.

Besides, she doesn't have to consume alcohol while she's there.

She can drink a mocktail or a soda. She needs to socialize so she can find a nice immortal to induce her transition. "

Soraya's shoulders slumped. "Yeah. You might be right. I'm just not ready for my baby to be all grown up. I need her to stay my little girl for a little while longer."

Fenella crossed her arms over her chest. "As hard as it is to believe, I still remember being Arezoo's age, and I was already working in a bar, serving drinks, even though my father didn't like it one bit.

You are fortunate that Arezoo is such a good daughter, and it's unfair of you to exploit her need to please you to stifle her growth as a person.

Let her go, Soraya. Let her make her own decisions and her own mistakes.

She's not in any danger inside the village. "

Realizing that she'd lost the argument, Soraya looked to her sisters for support. "What do you think, Kyra? Should I allow Arezoo to go to the bar?"

Kyra didn't answer right away. After a long moment, she took a deep breath and leveled her gaze at Soraya.

"I didn't do any parenting, and my daughter grew up without me, so I'm not really qualified to answer your questions, but I can tell you that her father was a lot like you, and it didn't end well.

The moment she could, she stopped listening to him and did what she pleased, and she always resented him for not respecting her choices.

They were practically estranged for many years. "

"You don't want that to happen," Parisa told Soraya. "Arezoo needs to live free of oppression and spread her wings. You did a good job raising her, and now you need to take a step back and limit yourself to giving advice when she asks for it."

"The man at the market," Rana suddenly interjected.

"He looked at us like—like he owned us. Like we were property that had been stolen, and he was going to return us to our rightful owners.

Just like—" She broke off, shuddering. "I never again want to feel like I don't matter, like I am less because I'm a woman.

We are the givers of life, and we should be cherished and revered, not diminished, dehumanized, and humiliated at every turn. "

"We thought we were beyond their reach out here," Yasmin said. "What were the odds of stumbling upon someone who knew us in a market halfway around the world?"

"Maybe it was fated," Jackson said. "Thanks to you, we might have found a secret Revolutionary Guard cell in Los Angeles. I bet they are not here to protect the Iranian consulate or some prominent visiting Iranian figure. They are up to no good."

Ruth, arriving with a platter of sandwiches and a carafe of coffee, put an end to the speculation. Still, even though Fenella's main interest at the moment was filling up her ravenous tummy, her mind kept churning over possible reasons for the Guard's presence in Los Angeles.

Could he be just visiting family?

According to Arezoo's internet research, many former Iranians were living in the city, and the number of Persian markets proved it, so it was entirely possible that the guy was not on any official business.

She could text Max and ask him what they'd found out so far, but she didn't want to interrupt what he was doing.

"Eat," Yasmin commanded her sisters with maternal authority. "Everything looks worse on an empty stomach."

Fenella paused with the half-eaten sandwich in her hand, noticing that Soraya and Rana were still looking at the offering as if it was going to jump up and bite them.

"You have to try this." She waved with the remaining piece of the sandwich, "It's superb. The bread is so fresh and tasty. I think they bake it in-house."

"We do," Ruth said from behind the register. "Every morning. Wait until you taste our pastries. I'll bring them out when you are done with the sandwiches."

With what looked like a monumental effort, Soraya lifted a pastrami sandwich to her mouth and took a bite. Her eyes widened. "It's incredible." She turned to Rana. "You have to try it."

Letting out a breath, Rana did as her sister commanded and took a bite, and then another, each one seeming like she had to force herself to chew.

It made Fenella think about fear and freedom and about the cages people built for themselves and the ones others tried to force them into. The sisters had escaped a restrictive society and even physical captivity, only to imprison themselves in fear.

"After we're done eating, we're hitting another Persian market," she announced and then turned to Jackson. "Do you have time to take us?"

He shook his head. "Not today, but I'll try to clear some time later this week."

"I don't know about that," Soraya said. "We can find another solution.

Ordering our supplies online shouldn't be all that difficult, correct?

" She looked at Jackson as if he held the secret to their salvation.

"Maybe we can pay a clan member to deliver them to the village.

You probably don't go shopping for the things your bakeries need yourself, right? You get them delivered."

He nodded. "I can set up accounts with my wholesalers for you, and I can ask around if anyone is willing to drive a delivery van to the village.”

"Don't do this." Fenella swept her gaze over Kyra's sisters.

"Don't let fear rule you. It's not like it's going to happen again, and if it does, we will discover more undercover plots to damage this beacon of freedom for the world.

" She smiled at the sisters. "You said that you were all rebels. Prove it."

Parisa nodded. "The store means freedom, independence, a new life. We need to be a lot braver if we want to embrace all of what we can have here."

"You fight by not giving up," Fenella said. "By not giving in, by going back out there and buying your damn refrigerators and stocking your shelves and building your dream."