Page 90 of Dark Rover's Gift

31

FENELLA

Jackson 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?

---