The Feminine Mesquite: The Complete Series

by Sable Sylvan

  “For this?” said Basil. “It’s nothing.”

  “I know you said not to thank you, but I feel that I must,” said Cayenne. “Is there any way I can repay you for your generosity and for defending me?”

  “Repay me for the studio by using it,” said Basil. “Repay me for defending you by being more careful…and I’m talking about you working too hard. It’s not safe, okay?”

  “Okay, okay,” said Cayenne. “I did a lot of thinking at brunch. Everyone couldn’t believe that we took on those two wolves. I couldn’t have done it alone, Basil.”

  “And I couldn’t have done it without you,” said Basil.

  “I guess Alice was right,” said Cayenne. “We work better together than apart. I guess the only question is, what will be harder: fighting off two wolves, or figuring out what to do with the restaurant?”

  “We can brainstorm,” said Basil. “But…it is a Saturday. What happened to taking it easy?”

  “Well, we should get along better,” said Cayenne. “We can learn about each other, get to know each other. I still don’t know much about you, Basil. I know you’re a Scoville, you like some downright weird food, you cook a mean gyudon, and you travel a lot.”

  “I knew you liked that dish,” teased Basil. “I learned about it when I was in the Hokkaido district for study abroad in high school.”

  “Is there a country you haven’t visited?” asked Cayenne, crossing her arms.

  “Hey, I can’t help it I have so much free time to travel,” said Basil.

  “I’m kinda jealous,” said Cayenne. “I wish I could travel.”

  “Can’t you?” asked Basil. “You know, Sage and Herb arranged for Addison to attend Bonimolean…you could ask Herb for a trip as well.”

  “I couldn’t do that,” said Cayenne.

  “Why not?” asked Basil. “Are you making things harder for yourself again?”

  “Maybe,” said Cayenne. “It’s just, and this is gonna sound stupid…but my grandma, my mom’s mom, Barbara Quigley, is this strong, inspirational woman. My mom didn’t have much growing up, a lot less than my dad. My grandma lives in a nice house in Georgia, but you wouldn’t know that for years she was poor, and put every last spare cent into raising my mom. My mom always had shoes on her feet, food in her belly, and a roof over her head, and more love than she could handle from her parents. When my grandfather’s brother passed, he had no heir, so the money went to my Grandpa Quigley as next of kin, and that went to Grandma Barbie when Grandpa passed. Grandma, bless her heart, offered my parents the money for college for us, but we all refused, every last one of us, including my parents, all my siblings, the lot of us.”

  “Why?” asked Basil.

  “She had worked so dang hard for so long, and it still took a stroke of luck for her to be able to afford to retire,” said Cayenne. “That’s why I work so hard. I feel like, even though things are pretty much set for the Quincys now, that I owe it to my grandma to work hard and continue her legacy.”

  “You can work hard without overworking,” said Basil. “Work smarter, not harder. That’s what I do.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Cayenne.

  “Do you know why I went to Brazil last semester?” asked Basil.

  “For Carnival?” joked Cayenne.

  “Well, you’re kinda right,” said Basil. “I visited Brazil as a teen and fell in love with the culture, everything from the Carnival to the art and the dance and the food. But in Brazil, there is extreme wealth next door to abject poverty. Norway and the other Scandinavian countries don’t have as much of a problem as Brazil does. Brazil has favelas, what you might call ‘ghettos,’ full of poor people.”

  “I know about that,” said Cayenne. “So, what did you do?”

  “I started a private group home and school,” said Basil. “I anonymously fund it because I do not want it associated with my family’s name. Otherwise, problems would arise. However, corruption is an issue in many countries, especially where international affairs are concerned. That’s why I went to Brazil last semester. I had put all the puzzle pieces into place. Now, it was time to pull the trigger on it and make my dream fulfill the dreams of so many other people.”

  “I had no idea that you were doing that,” said Cayenne.

  “Most people don’t, and I’d like to keep it that way,” said Basil. “As I said, if people learn a Scoville is associated with the project, things might get…messy.”

  “Why did you care so much about total strangers?” asked Cayenne.

  “The Scovilles have always been an adventurous lot,” said Basil. “Our people were Vikings, spice traders who ran the Silk Road with dragon shifters, for goodness sake. I am no different, and neither was my grandfather. My grandfather, Morten, knew your grandfather, your father’s father, Elijah, because they were both in the same Nazi POW camp.”

  “I know that much,” said Cayenne.

  “Well, what you may not know is that Grandpa Morten was the gamma of the Scoville Clan before World War 2 happened,” said Basil.

  “You mean…” started Cayenne.

  “That’s right,” said Basil. “He had two older siblings, both brothers, as back in the day, women couldn’t be alphas, much less have a clan rank. Anyways, they both died in the war, and my grandfather fought in the war as well.”

  “Wow,” said Cayenne quietly.

  “My grandfather went home and married my grandmother and had my father,” said Basil. “But, the Scovilles were not the only family to lose sons and daughters to the war…not by a long shot. You see, many children were left orphaned by the war. As a child, I was confused about why my grandmother would go to the poor part of Oslo, as there were poorer parts even in my youth, and work with orphans, foster children. She told me a story to explain why it meant so much to her. It wasn’t the story of World War 2…”

  “…It was the story of The Matchstick Girl,” said Cayenne. “You two must be close.”

  “We were…until she passed when I was eight,” said Basil. “It was on my birthday. I remember it like it was yesterday. My grandfather couldn’t keep it together at my party. When he told us what happened, why my grandmother wasn’t there, there wasn’t a dry eye that day. On my eighteenth birthday, my mark appeared…and my grandfather’s mate mark disappeared.”

  “It disappeared?” asked Cayenne.

  “It’s too painful to get into,” said Basil. “It’s a story for another time. I couldn’t stand to be around the Scoville Manor, a constant reminder of my grandfather’s loss. That’s why I started to travel by myself, to get out of the house. At first, it was trips around Norway, but I never seemed to be able to get away from my ghosts. That’s why I traveled further, and that’s why I went to Brazil again at eighteen and started to set up the school. It went from hobby to passion project.”

  “So, all you did in Brazil was help out at a school?” asked Cayenne. “I thought you were just lounging on beaches with models.”

  “No way,” said Basil. “When I did go out, I was checking out places that the children could go. Galleries, museums, that sort of thing. I had to scout the places out on my own because if they were seen with me, the reporters could figure out what was going on. I would surround myself with shifters and other socialites but I wasn’t there to party. I was there to find nice things for the children to do. After all, I went to set up a school, not a prison.”

  “Really? That’s so sweet,” said Cayenne. “What activity did they like best?”

  “Oh, definitely the churrascaria,” said Basil. “It’s pricey, but they go once a month now.”

  “Churrascaria?” asked Cayenne. “I’m gonna need a translation.”

  “Sorry, churrasco is a special kind of cuisine and restaurant in Brazil,” said Basil. “The cuisine is churrasco. The restaurant is a churrascaria. It’s an all-you-can-eat meat extravaganza. There’s a salad bar with Brazilian delicacies, as well as some luxury items like fresh mozzarella and smoked salmon, but the real show-stopper i
s the meat. The chefs barbecue fresh cuts of meat on big skewers that look like swords. Waiters walk around, offering cuts of barbecued meat to all the different tables. The meat is high quality and delicious, and very fresh as people go with big appetites and eat their fill. Most people go for the beef, but there’s also pork, chicken, and sausages.”

  “Okay, and you’re not pulling my leg…this is a real thing?” asked Cayenne. “Churrasco isn’t just something you’ve had a wet dream about? Because I’ve had food dreams that leave me hungry before.”

  “Nope, you can look them up,” said Basil. “Churrascaria is sometimes called a ‘Brazilian steakhouse’ abroad.”

  “Abroad?” asked Cayenne. “And about how much does it cost?”

  “It varies by market,” said Basil. “I’ve had it for twenty bucks in cheaper areas, sixty to a hundred dollars in fancier places…why?”

  “I have a crazy idea,” said Cayenne. “And I know that we’re going to need to work together if we want to have more than a snowball’s chance in Texas to make this a success.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  That weekend, Cayenne let herself relax and painted in the studio. She acquainted herself with where things were…then moved them and made a huge frikkin’ mess. Her cheeks were splattered with paint. She looked out the window to the studio. The rest of the Quincy-Scoville Clan was outside, the girls drinking beers and sitting in lawn chairs while the dudes played soccer, a pile of American footballs that had been punctured by the bears’ sharp teeth dotting the backyard, replaced by a big bouncing ball. There were some popped balls on the field as well.

  There was Herb, big and broad, leading his side of the team, which right now consisted of his second-in-command, the beta, Clove, and his gamma, Sage, who had a deep black streak of fur in his shift.

  They were playing against Mace, whose fur matched his neon lime green hair, which meant there was a bear on the field that looked like a puppet or fantasy creation rather than real live bear. On Mace’s team was Basil, his shaggy ivory shift’s fur stained with streaks of brown.

  Cayenne watched as they played, and when Basil turned her way and made eye contact with her, she waved. He waved back and, distracted, gave Sage the opportunity to steal the ball from him. Cayenne laughed and shooed Basil before going back to painting.

  She was painting scenes of a country she had a new interest in…Norway. The steep fjords and crashing waves of Basil’s homeland didn’t seem as scary on canvas, and she could practically feel the cool sea breeze against her skin…although what she was really feeling was the air conditioning unit.

  Monday came about, and Cayenne and Basil went to the restaurant supply shop and the grocery store before heading to the restaurant. Both Cayenne and Basil went to the kitchen, with Cayenne helping Basil, as Basil was the expert on churrasco. Today’s lunch was going to be very special indeed.

  As the rest of the Quincy-Scoville Clan arrived, Cayenne greeted them and offered them glasses of virgin and non-virgin peach batida, made with Brazil’s national alcohol, cachaça. The cocktails had a milkshake-like consistency, made with peach juice, coconut milk, ice, and sugar, with people adding as much or as little alcohol as they wanted. Of course, Savina and Mace both did shots of cachaça, to Alice and Herb’s dismay.

  Cayenne went to the back to check on the meat. Basil was grilling the meat, but he’d taken off his shirt while she’d been out of the room.

  “Hey, ETA on the meat?” asked Cayenne.

  “Oh, hey,” said Basil, turning before remembering he was shirtless. “Shiz. Sorry.”

  “I won’t look,” said Cayenne, turning away. “Anything I can carry out?”

  “It’s fine, you can look,” said Basil. “No use hiding it. I’m weird about it. Sorry.”

  Cayenne opened her eyes and turned to look at Basil’s chest.

  Broad, firm, strong, barrel-like. She knew those words described Basil…but she had no idea that his mark would look like that.

  Cayenne had seen the marks that her siblings’ mates had. They were all relatively ornate. However, Basil’s mark was simple. She had not seen him shirtless before because he had always disrobed and shifted in the privacy of the house’s locker rooms which opened to the backyard (standard for wealthy shifters who wanted to save their expensive clothes before shifting).

  On Basil’s mark was a mark that was dark, brown and black, shaped like a nut. It looked like an egg-shaped point of wood, slightly pointed on each end.

  “That’s something,” said Cayenne.

  “Right?” said Basil. “It’s not much for me to go on.”

  “Really?” asked Cayenne.

  “Really,” said Basil. “Maybe it means I don’t have anyone, given there’s no mark, just this withered…thing.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t have anyone?” asked Cayenne.

  “On my eighteenth birthday…my grandfather’s mate mark disappeared,” said Basil. “Both he and I had this mark instead. I don’t know what it means, but it’s why I don’t go home to Oslo when I can avoid it. After all, this showed up on the ten-year anniversary of my grandmother’s death.” Basil put his shirt on and covered the mark back up.

  “I’m so sorry,” said Cayenne.

  “It’s fine,” said Basil. “But I’d prefer to drop the subject. I’m nervous enough about the meat as it is.”

  “Oh, okay,” said Cayenne. “So, you need any help?”

  “Nope,” said Basil. “I’m gonna serve it authentically, so you just need to explain to people what to do.”

  “Got it,” said Cayenne.

  She headed back out to the table.

  “Hey, everyone,” said Cayenne. “The way this is gonna work is you will point at what part of the meat you want, and Basil will serve you a slice. Use your tongs to transfer the meat from his plate to yours, and keep your tongs clean on the saucers provided. There’s going to be a bunch of stuff to try.”

  “Got it,” said Savina, and Cayenne took her seat.

  Basil came out with the first skewer of meat. It was a juicy set of filet mignon cuts of steak, each spiced with a special sauce of cayenne and garlic. Each person at the table took a piece of meat and Basil went out to nurse the next skewer of meat before bringing it back out to serve people some bacon-wrapped pork sausages. Next was a buffalo wing inspired set of chicken drumsticks, and finally, there were lamb chops and pork chops.

  At the end of the meal, another vote was held. This time, it wasn’t anonymous. Everyone unanimously approved the choice in cuisine.

  “You two have two weeks of hard work ahead of you,” said Herb.

  “Two weeks?” said Basil, looking to Cayenne.

  “That’s not a lot of time,” said Cayenne.

  “I know, but we need this restaurant to open in time for the Fallowedirt Flood Day Festival,” said Alice.

  “The what now?” asked Basil.

  “There’s only ever been one big flood in the town’s history,” explained Cayenne. “It was a freak incident in the early 20th century. That’s why we have a festival to celebrate beating back the waters. People come from all over. It’d be a huge night for business. I guess we would’ve had more time to prep if we hadn’t frikkin’ fought for so long, but what’s done is done.”

  “One more thing,” said Alice. “What sauce did you use? I don’t recognize it.”

  “It’s a sauce that we developed for the meat,” said Basil. “We wanted something special. It’s cayenne and garlic. They go together like fated mates.”

  “Like fated mates…” said Herb. “That gives me an idea.”

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” asked Alice.

  “Cayenne, remember you asked us to stop selling to other restaurants so you could have an exclusive claim on the sauces?” asked Herb. “Well…what if we bottled this sauce and sold it, but the restaurant is the only commercial establishment that uses it? We won’t sell the sauce to any other restaurants. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. We c
an make compromises…but it looks like I don’t have to tell you two that.”

  “That sounds perfect,” said Cayenne. “But what will you call it?”

  “Basil, you said it yourself,” said Alice. “Cayenne and garlic go together like fated mates…so this will be our ‘Fated Mate Sauce.’”

  “‘Fated Mate Sauce,’” said Basil. “I like the sound of that.”

  “So do I,” admitted Cayenne.

  Everyone finished up their food, and it was time for Cayenne and Basil to get to work on figuring out the restaurant decor, staffing, and all that jazz. They only had half the work day left, but every hour would need to be well spent if this restaurant was going to be a success.

  Now, the only thing left was for Cayenne and Basil to get the restaurant ready for its opening night…which would happen in two weeks. Was opening night going to be a bust, or would Cayenne and Basil be able to make this the best new restaurant opening in the summer, in all the tri-county area?

  Chapter Forty

  The next two weeks were filled with hustle and bustle. Cayenne handled decorating, marketing, and the front of the house. Basil handled the back of the house. After all, he was the churrasco expert. What with the restaurant opening with such short notice, it was hard for them to find any chefs experienced with churrasco, much less Brazilian cuisine, but what they did find was a set of the best dang barbecue enthusiasts in the tri-county area who loved meat and fire just as much as Basil. It was practically the only thing that these grizzled men had in common with the polished polar, but they worked well together in the kitchen while Cayenne and her sisters worked on putting everything together in the front of the restaurant. It wasn’t easy work. Walls were painted, paintings were hung, and hanging plants were placed on the hooks lining the restaurant’s veranda. The foyer was decked out with plush velvet sofas, and as they brushed the dust off an old antique hostess podium they’d found at a thrift store the next town over, the restaurant was starting to come together.