15
Astrid
•
SINGAPORE
Whenever Astrid felt in need of a pick-me-up, she would pay a visit to her friend Stephen. Stephen had a small jewelry shop on one of the upper levels of the Paragon shopping center, tucked away from all the other high-end boutiques in a back hallway. While it lacked the visibility of high-profile local jewelers like L’Orient or Larry Jewelry, with their gleaming flagship stores, Stephen Chia Jewels was highly regarded by the island’s most discerning collectors.
Not to disregard his studied eye for spectacular gemstones, but what Stephen truly offered was absolute discretion. His was the sort of niche operation where, for instance, a society matron in need of a quick cash infusion to pay off her idiot son’s bad margin calls might go to dispose of an heirloom bauble without anyone finding out, or where a “very important piece” about to go on the block in Geneva or New York might be flown in for private inspection by a VIP client, away from the eyes of gossipy auction-house staffers. Stephen’s shop was said to be a particular favorite of the wives of Persian Gulf sheikhs, Malay sultans, and the Indonesian Chinese oligarchs, who had no need to be seen buying up millions of dollars’s worth of jewelry at the tony Orchard Road boutiques.
The shop consisted of a very small, rather stark front room where three French Empire vitrines displayed a small collection of moderately priced pieces, mainly by emerging artists from Europe. The mirrored door behind the Boulle desk, however, hid a vestibule where another security door opened to reveal a narrow corridor of individual chambers. It was here that Astrid liked to hide out, in the tuberose-scented private salon lined from floor to ceiling in pale blue velvet, with its plush velvet Récamier settee where she could curl up her feet, sip a soda with lemon, and gossip with Stephen as he came in and out of the room bearing trays and trays of glorious gems.
Stephen and Astrid had met years ago in Paris, when she wandered into the jewelry shop on rue de la Paix where he was doing his apprenticeship. Back then it was as rare to meet a teenage Singapore girl interested in eighteenth-century cameos as it was to see a young Chinese man behind the counter at a joaillier as distinguished as Mellerio dits Meller, so an immediate bond was struck. Astrid was grateful to find someone in Paris who understood her exacting tastes and was willing to indulge her capricious hunt for rare pieces that might have once belonged to the Princesse de Lamballe. Stephen, however, knew immediately that this girl had to be the daughter of some big shot, though it took him another three years of careful cultivating to figure out exactly who she was.
Like many of the world’s greatest jewelry dealers, from Gianni Bulgari to Laurence Graff, Stephen had over the years honed his skills in being perfectly attuned to the whims of the very rich. He had become a consummate soothsayer to the Asian billionaire set, and he had become an expert in recognizing Astrid’s many-faceted moods. He could tell, simply by observing her reactions to the types of pieces he would present to her, what sort of day she was having. Today he was seeing a side to Astrid he had never witnessed in fifteen years of knowing her. Something was clearly wrong, and her mood had worsened dramatically while he was showing her a new series of bracelets by Carnet.
“Aren’t these the most intricately detailed bracelets you’ve ever seen? They look like they could have been inspired by the botanical drawings of Alexander von Humboldt. Speaking of bracelets, did you like the charm bracelet your husband bought you?”
Astrid looked up at Stephen, confused by his question. “The charm bracelet?”
“Yes, the one Michael got you for your birthday last month. Wait a minute, didn’t you know he got it from me?”
Astrid averted her gaze, not wanting to look surprised. She had not received any sort of gift from her husband. Her birthday wasn’t until August, and Michael knew better than to ever buy her jewelry. She could feel all the blood rush to her face. “Oh yes, I forgot—it’s adorable,” she said lightly. “Did you help him pick it out?”
“Yes. He came in one night, all in a hurry. He had such a hard time making up his mind—I think he was afraid you wouldn’t like it.”
“Well, of course I do. Thanks so much for helping him out,” Astrid said, keeping her face completely calm. Oh God oh God oh God. Was Michael actually stupid enough to buy jewelry for someone else from her close friend Stephen Chia?
Stephen wished he hadn’t brought up the bracelet. He suspected that Astrid had not been impressed with the gift from her husband. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure Astrid would ever wear something as quotidian as a bracelet with multicolored pavé diamond teddy bear charms, but it was one of the least expensive things he had in the shop, and he knew that Michael, a typically clueless husband, was making a great effort to find something within his budget. It was quite a sweet gesture really. But now, within twenty minutes of being at his shop, Astrid had already bought an extremely rare three-carat blue diamond set on a diamond eternity band that had just arrived from Antwerp, art deco cuff links that had once belonged to Clark Gable, a signed vintage Cartier platinum-and-diamond link bracelet, and she was seriously considering a fantastical pair of VBH earrings. It was a piece he had brought in to show her for the sheer folly of it, and he would never have imagined her to be interested.
“The pear-shaped stones are kunzites weighing forty-nine carats, and these remarkable sparkling disks are twenty-three-carat ice diamonds. A highly original treatment. Are you thinking of wearing something new to the Khoo wedding next weekend?” he asked, trying to make conversation with his unusually focused shopper.
“Um . . . maybe,” Astrid replied, staring into the mirror and scrutinizing the multicolored gemstones dangling off the enormous earrings, the bottoms of which were brushing against her shoulders. The piece reminded her of a Native American dream catcher.
“It’s such a dramatic look, isn’t it? Very Millicent Rogers, I think. What kind of dress are you planning to wear?”
“I haven’t really decided yet,” she said, almost mumbling to herself. She wasn’t really looking at the earrings. In her mind, all she could picture was a piece of jewelry from her husband hanging off some other woman’s wrist. First came the text message. Then the receipt from Petrus. Now there was an expensive charm bracelet. Three’s a charm.
“Well, I think you’d want to go with something dead simple if you wear these earrings,” Stephen added. He was getting a bit concerned. The girl was not being herself today. Usually she would breeze in and they would spend the first hour chatting and munching on the delicious homemade pineapple tarts she always brought before he took out anything to show her. After another hour or so of looking at pieces, she might hand one thing over to him and say, “Okay, I’m going to think about this one,” before blowing a kiss goodbye. She was not the sort of client who spent a million dollars in ten minutes.
And yet Stephen always cherished her visits. He loved her sweet nature, her impeccable manners, and her complete lack of pretension. It was so refreshing, not like the sort of ladies he usually had to deal with, the egos that required constant stroking. He enjoyed reminiscing with Astrid about their crazy younger days in Paris, and he admired the originality of her taste. She cared about the quality of the stones, of course, but she couldn’t have cared less about the size and was never interested in the ostentatious pieces. Why would she need to be, when her mother already had one of the grandest jewelry collections in Singapore, while her grandmother Shang Su Yi possessed a trove of jewels so legendary he had only ever heard them mentioned in hushed whispers. “Ming dynasty jade like you’ve never seen before, jewels from the czars that Shang Loong Ma cunningly bought from the grand duchesses fleeing into Shanghai during the Bolshevik Revolution. Wait till the old lady dies—your friend Astrid is the favorite granddaughter, and she’s going to inherit some of the most unparalleled pieces in the world,” Stephen had been told by the acclaimed art historian Huang Peng Fan, one of the few people who had ever witnessed the splendor of the Shang collection.
“You know what? I must have these earrings too,” Astrid declared, standing up and smoothing out her short pleated skirt.
“Are you leaving already? Don’t you want a Diet Coke?” Stephen asked in surprise.
“No, thank you, not today. I think I need to hurry off. So many errands. Do you mind if I take the cuff links now? Promise I’ll have the funds transferred to your account by the end of day.”
“My dear, don’t be silly, you can have everything now. Let me just get you some nice boxes.” Stephen left the room, thinking that the last time Astrid had been impulsive like this was after her breakup with Charlie Wu. Hmm . . . was there trouble in paradise?
Astrid walked back to her car in the parking garage of the mall. She unlocked the door, got in, and placed the black-and-cream-colored parchment shopping bag subtly embossed with STEPHEN CHIA JEWELS on the passenger seat beside her. She sat in the airless vehicle, which was getting more stifling by the second. She could feel her heart pounding so quickly. She had just bought a three hundred and fifty thousand dollar diamond ring she didn’t much care for, a twenty-eight thousand dollar bracelet she quite liked, and a seven hundred and eighty-four thousand dollar pair of earrings that made her look like Pocahontas. For the first time in weeks, she felt bloody fantastic.
Then she remembered the cuff links. She rummaged through the bag, searching for the box that contained the art deco cuff links she had purchased for Michael. They were in a blue velvet vintage box, and she stared at the pair of little silver-and-cobalt cuff links fastened against a satin lining that had long since become mottled with pale yellow spots.
These had once brushed against Clark Gable’s wrists, Astrid thought. The gorgeous, romantic Clark Gable. Hadn’t he been married several times? Surely he must have romanced many women in his time. Surely he must have cheated on his wives, even Carole Lombard. How could anyone ever want to cheat on a woman as beautiful as Carole Lombard? But sooner or later, it was bound to happen. Every man cheats. This is Asia. Every guy has mistresses, girlfriends, flings on the side. It’s a normal thing. A status thing. Get used to it. Great-grandpa had dozens of concubines. Uncle Freddie had that whole other family in Taiwan. And how many mistresses has cousin Eddie had by now? I’ve lost count. It was all meaningless. Guys just need a cheap thrill, a quick shag. They need to go on the hunt. It’s a primal thing. They need to spread their seed. They need to put their pricks inside things. MISS U NSIDE ME. No no no. It was nothing serious. Probably some girl he met on his work trip. A fancy dinner. A one-night stand. And he bought her off with a bracelet. A silly charm bracelet. So cliché. At least he was discreet. At least he went and screwed the girl in Hong Kong, not Singapore. Many wives have to put up with so much more. Think of some of my friends. Think of what Fiona Tung has to go through with Eddie. The humiliation. I am lucky. I am so lucky. Don’t be so bourgeois. It’s just a fling. Don’t make this a big deal. Remember, grace under pressure. Grace under pressure. Grace Kelly slept with Clark Gable while they were filming Mogambo. Michael is as handsome as Clark Gable. And now he will have Gable’s cuff links. And he will love them. They weren’t too expensive. He won’t get mad. He will love me. He still loves me. He hasn’t been that distant. He’s just stressed out. All that work pressure. We’ll be married five years this October. Oh my God. Not even five years and he is already cheating. He isn’t attracted to me anymore. I’m getting too old for him. He’s tired of me. Poor Cassian. What’s going to happen to Cassian? My life is over. It’s all over. This isn’t happening. I can’t believe this is happening. To me.