“You are a moron! An absolute moron!” Eleanor screeched.
“See, I knew you were going to be unreasonable.”
Eleanor played with her braised noodles, seething on the inside as she pretended to listen to the bishop complain about some pastor’s wife who was spending millions trying to become a famous pop star. At the children’s table, Cassian’s au pair was trying to coax him into finishing his lunch. “I don’t want noodles! I want ice cream!” the boy fussed.
“It’s Chinese New Year. No ice cream for you today,” his au pair said firmly.
Suddenly, an idea came to Eleanor. She whispered to one of the serving maids, “Can you please tell Ah Ching that I have a sore throat from all this heaty food and I’m desperately craving some ice cream?”
“Ice cream, ma’am?”
“Yes, any flavor. Anything you might have in the kitchen. But don’t bring it to me here—I’ll meet you in the library.”
? ? ?
Fifteen minutes later, after having paid off Cassian’s au pair with five crisp hundred-dollar bills, Eleanor was sitting at the black lacquered scholar’s table in the library, watching the little boy devour an ice-cream sundae out of a large silver bowl.
“Cassian, when your mummy is away, you just tell Ludivine to call me, and my driver will come and pick you up and take you for ice cream anytime you like,” Eleanor said.
“Really?” Cassian said, wide-eyed.
“Absolutely. It will be our little secret. When is your mother going away? Did she tell you she is getting on an aeroplane and going to America soon?”
“Uh-huh. In March.”
“Did she tell you where she was going? Is she going to Cupertino? Or San Francisco? Los Angeles? Disneyland?”
“LA,” Cassian said while gulping down another spoonful.
Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief. March gave her enough time. She patted the boy on the head and smiled as he stained the entire front of his Bonpoint dress shirt with hot fudge. Serves Astrid right for trying to keep things from me!
* * *
*1 Hokkien for “red packet,” these red envelopes embossed in gold are stuffed with cold hard cash and are given out during Chinese New Year by married couples to single people, especially children, for good luck. Amounts vary according to the giver’s income bracket, but it is safe to say that the minimum amount in more affluent households is a hundred dollars. By the end of the week, most kids make out with thousands of dollars, and for some, their entire allowances for the year depend on this ritual. In another departure from tradition, the ang pows at Tyersall Park were made of a pale pink vellum, and always contained a nominal but symbolic amount. This explains the generations of children taken to Tyersall Park every New Year who would blurt out in disappointment, “Kan ni nah—only two dollars inside!”
*2 If your parents were divorced and remarried or you came from one of those families where Grandpa had taken multiple wives and sired multiple families, you were totally fucked.
*3 Cantonese for “Don’t put a curse of death,” meaning “Don’t sabotage the situation.”
*4 A female ghost with long, rat-nest-like hair that lives in a banana tree. From Indonesian and Malay mythology, pontianaks are said to be spirits of women who died while giving birth. A pontianak kills her victims by digging into their stomachs with her sharp dirty fingernails and devouring their organs. Yum.
*5 “Congratulations and wishing you prosperity,” the proper greeting in Cantonese. Naughtier children prefer to say “Happy New Year—I pull your ear!” or “Gong hei fat choy—ang pow tae lai!” (Now gimme that ang pow!)
*6 Cantonese for “This irritates me to death!”
*7 Jun Takahashi, the creative force behind the cult fashion label Undercover. The prototype of Astrid’s dress was quite possibly the inspiration for his autumn–winter 2014 collection.
6
MORTON STREET
NEW YORK
FEBRUARY 10, 2013 18:38 PM PST
Text messages to Nicholas Young’s private cell phone (the one his parents don’t have the number for)
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
Message left on Nicholas Young’s voice mail in New York
Nicky, ah? Are you there? Happy New Year. Are you celebrating in New York? I hope you are going to do something. If you cannot find yee sang in Chinatown, at least have a plate of noodles. We have been at Ah Ma’s all day. Everyone was there. All your cousins. Eric Tan’s new Indonesian wife is very pretty and has very white skin. I think she must bleach it. I heard they had a ridiculously lavish wedding like Colin and Araminta’s, but in Jakarta. Her side paid for most of it of course. I’m sure her side will pay for all of Eric’s money-losing films from now on. Nicky, please call me when you get this message. There’s something I need to discuss with you.
FEBRUARY 11, 2013 8:02 AM EST
Message left on Nicholas Young’s voice mail in New York
Nicky, are you there? Alamak, this is getting ridiculous. You cannot keep ignoring me like this. Please call me back. I have something very important to tell you. Something you will want to know, I promise. Please call me as soon as possible.
FEBRUARY 12, 2013 11:02 AM EST
Message left on Nicholas Young’s voice mail in New York
Nicky, is that you? Nicky? He’s not in…Dad here. Please call your mother. She needs to speak to you urgently. I want you to put aside your feelings and just call her. It’s Chinese New Year. Please be a good son and call home.
? ? ?
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.”