For, despite cynicism about American ideals as preached and practiced, the Muslims of Dearborn were optimistic. Conflicts with their “real” American neighbors were frequent but waged with words during meetings, not by stone-throwing mobs or suicide bombers. Each grudging compromise was a small victory, as their sons played American football and ate halal pizza, and they built new lives, much better than those they’d left behind.
Borqei had faced the paradox. His need for “assimilated” Americans would never be met by American-born Muslims, who were corrupted beyond redemption. Hezbollah had come to his aid, trolling teeming refugee camps for orphans. While they trained in Iran, Borqei prepared the ground, helping the faithful of his inner circle get citizenship, allowing them in turn to use the Child Citizenship Act to adopt “foreign-born children,” all graduates of Hezbollah training. They arrived, committed to serving Islam by becoming ever more American in appearance. He had a dozen now, and the first was the finest.
Yousif Nassir Hamad, or “Joe” Hamad, was finishing college, with honors, on a US Navy ROTC scholarship. Fluent in Arabic, he was courted heavily, and Borqei had been helping him review his options, deciding just where in the navy he could best serve Islam. Now it had been decided for them. Borqei gazed at the message with distaste.
“No!” Cassie glared defiance, flopping the hair bow on the table. “This dorky uniform is bad enough. Please, Papa, tell her I don’t have to wear it.”
Alex studied the bow over his cup, remembering Cassie’s delight when Mrs. Farnsworth first made it. As Cassie, at age fifteen, struggled between her physical and mental ages, conflicts had become frequent — difficult for Cassie, but harder still on Mrs. Farnsworth.
“Cassie, the bow makes you even prettier,” he said.
“I hate it, I hate it,” Cassie spoke into her cereal, pouting.
“Cassie,” Mrs. Farnsworth said, “a proper young lady does not pout. People respond to courtesy, not petulance or angry demands. Would you like to ask me again, young lady?”
Alex stiffened. The proper-young-lady campaign was difficult for him, but Mrs. Farnsworth was insistent that repeated challenge strengthened Cassie’s abilities. He accepted the theory but was incapable of causing Cassie discomfort. He bit his tongue and left correction to Mrs. Farnsworth, thankful she was made of sterner stuff.
“Please, Mrs. Farnsworth, must I wear it?” Cassie asked, barely audible.
“Not if you don’t wish to,” Mrs. Farnsworth said. “Now go up and tidy your hair. It’s almost time to go.”
“Oh thank you, thank you,” Cassie cried, rushing to the door. She stopped midstride and turned. “Oh. I almost forgot. When will Uncle Thomas be here, Papa?”
Alex smiled. “He arrives this evening, Cassie. He’ll have dinner with us.”
“Cool,” Cassie said, then bolted for the door.
“Don’t ….” Mrs. Farnsworth said at Cassie’s retreating back, “… run.”
Alex chuckled as Cassie disappeared. “A bit late, I’m afraid.”
Mrs. Farnsworth smiled. “She’s coming along nicely.”
“You expected that?”
The housekeeper nodded. “Self-assertion. Notice how she tried to play us against each other? A good sign.”
Alex deferred to her judgment. She’d cared for Cassie since infancy, and the shelves of her bedroom overflowed with books on development, special needs, and remedial teaching techniques. Many nights he saw her through the open doorway, pouring over arcane tomes.
He sighed. “I have mixed emotions at seeing innocence replaced by manipulation.”
“Loss of innocence is inevitable, sir, if she’s to achieve independence. We won’t be around forever.”
Alex nodded as they sipped coffee in silence. Mrs. Farnsworth seemed uneasy, on the verge of speaking several times, then studying her coffee.
“The coffee isn’t that interesting. Speak your mind, Mrs. Farnsworth. If it’s about Thomas—”
Mrs. Farnsworth shook her head. “I resigned myself to your friendship with the boorish Mr. Dugan some time ago. It’s this Farley I’m concerned with. He’s not working out, sir.”
Alex stiffened. “Go on.”
“I can’t understand why, without notice, you engaged him as our driver, replacing Daniel after years of loyal service. I’ve managed to keep Daniel busy with other tasks, but he feels wronged. He may leave us.”
“You’re quite right, Mrs. Farnsworth, and I do apologize. The need arose suddenly and for reasons I can’t discuss, but I’ve handled it badly.”
“‘Need,’ sir? What need? Farley’s reckless and unsavory in the extreme, hanging about the kitchen, offending Mrs. Hogan with crude humor, and calling Daniel an ‘old kike’ to his face.” She lowered her voice. “And he ogles Cassie with undisguised lust. The lout must go.”
Alex tried to speak several times before succeeding.
“He’ll leave soon,” he said. “Until then, make sure Cassie is never alone with him.”
“Did you understand what I said, sir?”
“Perfectly,” Alex said through tight lips, “but I can’t discharge him yet. He’s a bodyguard. There have been … kidnap threats against Cassie.”
“Good Lord. From whom? Have you notified the police?”
“Anonymous e-mail threats,” Alex lied, reciting the story Braun invented. “The police are investigating. I hired Farley at their recommendation.”
Mrs. Farnsworth digested the news but focused on the imminent threat.
“Understood, sir. But I still don’t trust Farley. We must replace him.”
“Impossible,” Alex said.
“But surely the agency you engaged—”
“God damn it, woman!” he said, red-faced. “I’ll thank you to stop meddling and do as you’re told!” He glared at her, then seemed to deflate as he sat, elbows on the table and face buried in his hands, as if hiding from his own outburst.
Mrs. Farnsworth sat shocked until Alex spoke again, his head down, avoiding her eyes.
“That was unthinkable. Please forgive me, Mrs. Farnsworth. I’m overwrought with concern about Cassie.”
She stiffened. “As am I, sir. Will that be all?”
“I’ll hire another car and use Daniel to run errands around the office. That will salve his feelings and spare him contact with Farley.”
She rose. “Whatever you decide, sir. I must check on Cassie.”
Alex called her name as she reached the door, and she turned.
“About your … suspicions. Please watch Cassie closely.”
“I always do, sir. I always do,” she said softly.
Alex smiled as he watched Dugan rub his stomach in mock distress.
“It’s clear I’ll have to find my own place quickly, Mrs. Hogan,” Dugan said to the cook. “If I stay here too long, I’ll be needing a new wardrobe.”
The cook beamed as she poured coffee. “Sure, and it was nothing fancy, Mr. Dugan,” she said, retreating to the kitchen.
Another Dugan conquest, thought Alex. Thomas had even managed to defrost Mrs. Farnsworth a bit this evening. He noticed the housekeeper’s approving glance as Cassie chatted happily with their house guest.
“Cassie, you have homework, so say good night,” Mrs. Farnsworth said.
“Please, please, may I do it in the morning?” Cassie pleaded.
“No, dear. I’m sure your father and Mr. Dugan have matters to discuss.”