6

MORTON STREET

NEW YORK

FEBRUARY 10, 2013 18:38 PM PST

ASTRID: Yr mum found out about the wedding. Happy New Year.

NICK: WTF! How did she find out?

ASTRID: Not sure who leaked. She confronted me @Ah Ma’s. Things got ugly.

NICK: Really?!?

ASTRID: Yes. She went nuts and made a scene when I wouldn’t give her any details.

NICK: So she doesn’t know when, where, etc.?

ASTRID: No, but I’m sure she’ll find out eventually. Get ready.

NICK: I’ll double down on security at the venue. Will hire ex-Mossad.

ASTRID: Make sure they are all from Tel Aviv. With good tans, lots of stubble, and great abs.

NICK: No, we need really sinister guards. Maybe I should call Putin and see whom he can recommend.

ASTRID: Miss u. Gotta run. Ling Cheh’s ringing the lunch gong.

NICK: Please wish Ling Cheh gong hei fat choy, and save me some tsai tao kueh.

ASTRID: I’ll save you all the crispy bits.

NICK: My favorite!

FEBRUARY 10, 2013 9:47 AM EST

FEBRUARY 11, 2013 8:02 AM EST

FEBRUARY 12, 2013 11:02 AM EST

It was Rachel who heard the messages first. They had just arrived home from California, and after setting the luggage down, Nick had run out to grab some sandwiches at La Panineria while Rachel unpacked and checked the voice mails on the home line.

“They were out of mortadella so I got a prosciutto and fontina with fig mustard and a mozzarella, tomato, and pesto panini—I thought we could share both,” Nick announced upon returning to the apartment. Handing the paper sack to Rachel, he sensed that something was off. “You okay?”

“Um, you need to listen to the voice mails,” Rachel said, handing him the cordless phone. While Nick listened, Rachel went into the kitchen and began unwrapping the sandwiches. She noticed that her fingers were trembling, and she found herself unable to decide whether to leave the sandwiches on the wax paper or put them on plates. For a moment, she became angry with herself. She hadn’t thought that hearing Eleanor Young’s voice again after all this time would have this effect on her. What was it she was feeling? Anxiety? Dread? She wasn’t quite sure.

Entering the kitchen, Nick said, “You know, I think that’s the first time in my life my dad’s ever left me a voice mail. I’m always the one who calls him. My mum must be giving him hell.”

“Looks like the cat’s out of the bag.” Rachel forced a smile, trying to mask her nerves.

Nick grimaced. “Astrid sent a text warning me while we were at your uncle’s, but I didn’t want to mention anything while we were all celebrating New Year’s. Things were tense enough with all the talk about your father. I should have known this was coming.”

“What do you think you’ll do?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“You’re really going to ignore her calls?”

“Of course. I’m not going to play her game.”

Rachel felt relieved at first, but then a little conflicted about whether this was the right way for Nick to handle things. Ignoring his mother had gotten them into all that trouble the first time around. Was he making a big mistake again? “Are you sure you don’t want to at least speak to your father…maybe try to clear the air before the wedding?”

Nick thought about it for a moment. “You know, there’s really nothing to clear. My dad already gave us his blessing when I spoke to him last month. He’s happy for us, at least.”

“But what if the messages have nothing to do with our wedding?”

“Listen, if there was anything truly important my parents needed to tell me, they would have just told me on the voice mail. Or Astrid would have told me. This is just some new scheme my mother has cooked up in her last-ditch effort to prevent us from marrying. I gotta hand it to her—she’s like a rabid dog that just won’t let go of your leg,” Nick said, fuming.

Rachel walked into the living room and sank down onto the sofa. Here she was, a girl who had grown up never knowing her father. As much as she detested Eleanor Young, she couldn’t help but feel sad that Nick had become so estranged from his mother. She knew it wasn’t her fault, but she hated that she was part of why it happened. She gathered her thoughts for a few minutes before finally speaking. “I wish things didn’t have to be this way. I never thought I’d ever put you in a position like this.”

“You didn’t put me in any position. This was my mother’s own doing. She only has herself to blame.”

“I just never imagined I’d be at a place where my future husband’s parents weren’t invited to our wedding, and most of his family won’t be there…”

Nick took a seat beside Rachel. “We talked about this already. It’s going to be fine. Astrid and Alistair will be there, and they are my closest cousins. You know I’ve always hated those traditional Chinese weddings where everyone and their cat is invited. We’re going to have an intimate ceremony surrounded by your family and our closest friends. Just you, me, and our chosen family. No one else matters.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m more than sure,” Nick said as he began to kiss the tender spot at the nape of her neck.

Sighing softly, Rachel closed her eyes and hoped he really meant what he said.

A couple of weeks later, the students enrolled at New York University in the course Britain Between the Wars: The Lost Generation Rediscovered, Deconstructed, and Restored were treated to the most curious spectacle. In the middle of Professor Young’s lecture, two extremely tan, extremely blond women of Amazonian proportions entered the classroom. Dressed in identical outfits of figure-hugging navy-blue cashmere sweaters, immaculately pressed white linen slacks, and white nautical caps with gold piping on the brims, the pair sauntered up to the front of the classroom and addressed the professor.

“Mr. Young? The favor of your presence has been requested. If you would please come with us,” one of the blondes said in a thick Norwegian accent.

Not sure what to make of this, Nick replied, “My class isn’t over for another twenty-five minutes. If you’d care to wait outside, we can speak when it’s over.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Mr. Young. The matter is extremely urgent and we’ve been requested to collect you immediately.”

“Immediately?”

“Yes, immediately,” the other blonde replied. This one had an Afrikaans accent that made her sound much sterner than the Norwegian. “Please come with us now.”

Nick was starting to get a little annoyed by the disruption when suddenly it hit him—this had to be some pre-wedding prank, most likely courtesy of his best friend Colin Khoo. He had assured Colin that he didn’t care for a bachelor party or any sort of fuss, but it sure looked like these two leggy blondes were part of some elaborate ploy.

“And what if I don’t go with you?” he said with a playful grin.

“Then you will give us no choice but to resort to extreme measures,” the Norwegian replied.

Nick found himself fighting to keep a straight face. He hoped these women were not about to bust out a boom box and start stripping. His classroom would descend into total chaos and he would lose control of these already attention-deficient kids. Not to mention all his hard-earned credibility, since he hardly looked older than most of his students.

“Give me a few minutes to wrap things up,” Nick finally said.

“Very well.” The women nodded in unison.

Ten minutes later, Nick exited the classroom as his students excitedly whipped out their phones and began texting, tweeting, and insta-gramming pictures of their instructor being led away by two statuesque blondes in nautical-inspired outfits. Waiting in front of the building on University Place was a silver BMW SUV with tinted windows. Nick got in a little reluctantly, and as the sedan began speeding across Houston Street and onto the West Side Highway, he wondered where in the world he was being taken.

At Fifty-second Street, the car merged into one of the exit lanes leading toward the Manhattan Cruise Terminal, where the cruise ships that visited New York all docked. Moored at Pier 88 was a superyacht that looked like it had at least five levels of decks. The Odin, it was called. Good God, Colin has way too much time and money on his hands! Nick thought, staring up at the gargantuan vessel, which seemed to sparkle as shards of sunlight reflecting off the water danced across its midnight-blue hull. He climbed up the gangway and entered the grand foyer of the yacht, a soaring atrium with a circular glass elevator in the middle that looked like it could have been stolen from an Apple store. The blondes escorted Nick into the lift, which rose just one floor before opening up again.

“We could have taken the stairs,” Nick remarked wryly to the ladies. He stepped out of the elevator, half expecting to find the room filled with friends like Colin Khoo, Mehmet Sabançi, and some of his cousins, but instead found himself alone on what seemed to be the main deck of the yacht. The ladies led him through a series of sumptuous spaces, past sleek lounges paneled in golden sycamore, barstools upholstered in whale foreskin, and a salon with a ceiling that glowed like a James Turrell installation.

Nick began to have the sinking feeling that none of this had anything to do with a bachelor party. Just as he was beginning to consider his options for a hasty exit, they arrived at a pair of sliding doors guarded by two tall, strapping deckhands. The men slid the doors apart, revealing a skylit dining deck. At the end of the deck, lounging on a dining settee in a white pique blazer, white jodhpurs, and camel-colored F.lli Fabbri riding boots, was none other than Jacqueline Ling.

“Ah, Nicky, just in time for the soufflé!” she said.

Nick approached his old family friend, feeling equally amused and exasperated. He should have clued in earlier that all this Scandinavian silliness had something to do with Jacqueline, whose longtime partner was the Norwegian billionaire Victor Normann.

“What kind of soufflé is it?” Nick asked nonchalantly, taking a seat across from the legendary beauty dubbed “the Chinese Catherine Deneuve” by the society pages.

“I believe it’s kale and Emmentaler. Don’t you think all the sudden hype about kale is getting a bit much? I want to know who’s been doing all the PR for the kale industry—they should really get an award. Now, aren’t you the least bit surprised to see me?”

“Actually, I’m rather disappointed. For a while I thought I’d been kidnapped and forced to be an extra in a James Bond movie.”

“Didn’t you enjoy meeting Alannah and Mette Marit? I knew you wouldn’t come if I had just called up and invited you to lunch.”

“Of course I would have, but at a more normal time—I hope you’re going to find me a new job when NYU fires me for abandoning my class in the middle of a lecture.”

“Hiyah, don’t be such a spoilsport! You have no idea how hard it was to find a place to dock this beast. Now, I thought New York was supposed to be such a world-class city, but do you know your biggest marina can only hold up to a hundred and eighty feet? Where is anyone supposed to park their yacht?”

“Well, this is quite a beast. Lürssen, I presume?”

“Fincantieri, actually. Victor did not want his baby built anywhere near Norway, with those pesky journalists always scrutinizing his every move, so he chose an Italian shipyard instead. Of course, Espen designed this one, like he has all our boats.”

“Auntie Jacqueline, I don’t think you summoned me here to talk about shipbuilding. Why don’t you say what you really came to say?” Nick said, breaking off a corner of a still-warm baguette and dipping it into his soufflé.

“Nicky, I told you never to call me ‘Auntie.’ You make me feel like I’m past my sell date!” Jacqueline said in mock horror as she flicked a lustrous lock of black hair behind her shoulders.

“Jacqueline—you don’t need me to tell you that you don’t look a day over forty,” Nick said.

“Thirty-nine, Nicky.”

“Okay, thirty-nine.” Nick laughed. He had to admit that even as she sat across from him in the bright sunlight with only a touch of makeup on, she was still one of the most stunningly attractive women he had ever known.

“There’s that handsome smile of yours! For a while I was afraid you were beginning to get surly. Don’t ever get surly, Nicky, it’s most unbecoming. My son, Teddy, always has the most surly, supercilious look about him—I should never have sent him to Eton.”

“I don’t think Eton had anything to do with it,” Nick offered.

“You’re probably right. He has those snobby recessive Lim genes from my late husband’s side. Now, you should know that all of Singapore was talking about you over the Chinese New Year.”

“I highly doubt that all of Singapore was talking about me, Jacqueline. I haven’t lived there in over a decade and I really don’t know many people.”

“You know what I mean. I hope you don’t mind my being frank. I’ve always been very fond of you, so I don’t want to see you do the wrong thing.”

“And what’s the ‘wrong thing’?”

“Marrying Rachel Chu.”

Nick rolled his eyes in frustration. “I really don’t want to be drawn into a discussion about this with you. It would be a waste of your time.”

Ignoring him, Jacqueline continued. “I saw your Ah Ma last week. She summoned me to visit her, and we had tea on her veranda. She is very distressed by your estrangement from her, but at this point she is still willing to forgive you.”

“Forgive me? Oh, that’s rich.”

“I see you are still reluctant to see her side of things.”

“I’m not reluctant at all. I can’t even begin to see her side of things. I don’t know why my grandmother can’t be happy for me, why she cannot trust me to make a decision about who I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

“It has nothing to do with trust.”

“Then what is it about?”

“It’s a matter of respect, Nicky. Your Ah Ma cares for you dearly, and she has always had your best interests at heart. She knows what is best for you, and only asks that you respect her wishes.”

“I used to respect my grandmother, but I’m sorry, I can’t respect her snobbery. I’m not going to roll over and marry into one of the five families in Asia deemed acceptable by her.”

Jacqueline sighed and shook her head slowly. “There is so much you don’t know about your grandmother, about your own family.”

“Well, why don’t you tell me? Let’s not keep it a mystery.”

“Listen, there is only so much I can say. But I will tell you this: If you choose to go through with your wedding next month, I can assure you that your grandmother will take necessary measures.”

“Meaning what? Meaning she’s going to cut me out of her will? I thought she did that already,” Nick said mockingly.

“Forgive me if I sound patronizing, but the arrogance of youth has led you astray. I don’t think you truly realize what it means for the gates of Tyersall Park to be closed to you forever.”

Nick laughed. “Jacqueline, you sound like some character out of a Trollope novel!”

“Laugh all you want, but you’re being rather foolhardy about this. There is this sense of entitlement that was bred into you, and you are letting that affect your decisions. Do you really know what it means to be cut off from your fortune?”

“I’m doing just fine.”

Jacqueline gave Nick a patronizing smile. “I’m not talking about the twenty or thirty million your grandfather left you. That’s just teet toh lui. You can’t even buy a proper house in Singapore with that these days. I’m talking about your real legacy. Tyersall Park. Are you prepared to lose it?”

“Tyersall Park is going to be left to my father, and one day it will pass to me,” Nick said matter-of-factly.

“Let me give you some news—your father long ago gave up any hope of inheriting Tyersall Park.”

“That’s just idle gossip.”

“No it’s not, Nicky. It’s a fact, and aside from your grandmother’s lawyers and your great-uncle Alfred, I am probably the only person on the planet who knows this.”

Nicky shook his head in disbelief.

Jacqueline sighed. “You think you know everything. Do you know I was with your grandmother the day your father announced that he was going to immigrate to Australia? No, because you were away at boarding school during that time. Your grandmother was furious at your father, and then she was brokenhearted. Imagine, a woman of her generation, a widow, having to suffer the indignity of this. I remember she cried to me, ‘What’s the use of having this house and all these things, when my only son is abandoning me?’ That’s when she decided to change her will and leave the house to you. She skipped over your father and put all her hopes in you.”

Nick couldn’t mask his look of surprise. For years, his busybody relatives had engaged in covert speculation over the contents of his grandmother’s will, but this was one twist he hadn’t imagined.

“Of course, your recent actions have sabotaged those plans. I have it on good authority that your grandmother is preparing to change her will again. How will you feel if Tyersall Park goes to one of your cousins?”

“If Astrid gets it, I’d be happy for her.”

“You know how your grandmother is—she will want the house to go to one of the boys. It won’t go to any of the Leongs, because she knows that they already have too many properties, but it could very well go to one of your Thai cousins. Or one of the Chengs. How would you feel if Eddie Cheng became lord and master of Tyersall Park?”

Nick looked at Jacqueline in alarm.

Jacqueline paused for a moment, carefully considering what she wanted to say next. “Do you know anything about my family, Nicky?”

“What do you mean? I know your grandfather was Ling Yin Chao.”

“In the 1900s my grandfather was the richest man in Southeast Asia, revered by all. His house on Mount Sophia was bigger than Tyersall Park, and I was born in that house. I grew up much like your family did, in a kind of luxury that hardly exists today.”

“Wait a minute…you’re not going to tell me that your family lost all their money?”

“Of course not. But my grandfather had too many damn wives and too many children, so the fortune’s been dispersed. Collectively, we’d still rank high on the Forbes list, but not when there are so many of us feeding from the pot these days. But look at me, I’m a girl. My grandfather was an old-fashioned man from Amoy, and for people like him, girls weren’t supposed to inherit—they were just married off. Before he died, he put all his holdings in a labyrinthine family trust, stipulating that only males born with the Ling surname could benefit. I was expected to marry well, and I did, but then my husband died much too young, and I was left with two small children and some teet toh lui. Do you know how it feels to live among some of the richest people in the world and feel like you have nothing compared to them? Take it from me, Nicky—you have no idea what it’s like to come from everything and then lose it all.”

“You’re not exactly hurting.” Nick gestured at their surroundings.

“True, I’ve managed to maintain certain standards, but it has not happened with the sort of ease that you might imagine.”

“I appreciate your story, but the difference between you and me is that I don’t require all that much. I don’t need a yacht or a plane or a huge estate. I spent half my life in houses that were far too big, and it’s such a relief to live the way I do in New York. I’m perfectly content with my life just the way it is.”

“I think you misunderstand me. How can I put it to you more clearly?” Jacqueline pursed her lips for a moment and considered her finely painted manicure, as if she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to say. “You know, I grew up thinking that I was born into a certain world. My whole identity was wrapped up in the notion that I belonged to this family—that I was a Ling. But the moment I got married, I found out that I was not considered a Ling anymore. Not in the truest sense. All my brothers, half brothers, and idiot male cousins would inherit hundreds of millions each from the Ling Trust, but I wouldn’t be entitled to a cent. But then I realized it wasn’t really the loss of money that was affecting me the most. It was the loss of the privilege. To suddenly realize that you are inconsequential even within your own family. If you go through with this marriage, I promise you will feel a seismic shift. You can act self-righteous in front of me right now, but believe me, when it is all taken away, you won’t know what hit you. Doors that have been open to you all your life will suddenly be closed, because in everyone’s eyes, you are nothing without Tyersall Park. And I would hate to see that happen. You are the rightful heir. How much is that land worth today? Sixty of the most prime acres in the heart of Singapore…it’s like owning Central Park in New York. I can’t even begin to fathom the value. If Rachel only knew what you were giving up.”

“Well, I’m certainly not interested in having any of it if I can’t share my life with her,” Nick said adamantly.

“Who said you couldn’t be with Rachel? Why don’t you live with her as you have been? Just don’t get married now. Don’t rub it in your grandma’s face. Go home and make peace with her. She is in her nineties, how many years does she have left? After she goes, you can do anything you want.”

Nick considered her words in silence. There was a gentle knock on the door, and a steward bearing a tray of coffee and desserts entered.

“Thank you, Sven. Now try some of this chocolate cake. I think you’ll find it to be quite interesting.”

Nick took a bite, recognizing immediately that it tasted exactly like the airy yet rich chocolate chiffon cake made by the cook at his grandmother’s house. “How did you manage to pry the recipe out of Ah Ching?” he asked in surprise.

“I didn’t. I smuggled a slice into my handbag when I had lunch with your grandmother last week and had it flown straight to Marius, the genius chef we have aboard. He spent three days doing his own forensics on the cake, and after about twenty attempts, we got it just right, don’t you think?”

“It’s perfect.”

“Now, how would you feel if you could never have this chocolate cake again?”

“I’ll just have to be invited back to your yacht.”

“This isn’t my yacht, Nicky. None of this is mine. And don’t think I’m not reminded of this every day of my life.”