“Yeah, it’s a good day for it. You know your mother invited Daisy, Nadine, Lorena, and Carol to Sydney? The whole gin gang’s here, and it’s such a toilet-seat-down invasion, I needed to get out of the house. The ladies are busy hatching some kind of plot…I think involving Tyersall Park.”
“That’s the reason I was calling, Dad. It looks like things are moving far too quickly with the house. Your sisters seem really primed to sell it to the highest bidder, and I don’t even want to tell you what those developers have planned.”
“Does it even matter? Once we sell it, the new owners can do whatever they want.”
“But I feel like everyone’s losing sight of the big picture,” Nick argued. “Tyersall Park is a unique property, and we need to make sure that it’s preserved. I mean, I’m at the house right now, and even just looking out the window onto the gardens—the rambutan trees are bearing fruit, and they are flaming red. There’s nothing quite like it.”
“I think you’re being too sentimental,” Philip said.
“Maybe I am, but I’m just surprised that no one else cares about this house in the way that I do. Everyone’s just seeing dollar signs while I see something so rare that needs to be protected.”
Philip sighed. “Nicky, I know for you this house was like some never-never land, but for the rest of us, it was a bit of a prison. Living in a palace was no fun as a kid. I grew up with nothing but rules. There were so many rooms I wasn’t even allowed to enter, chairs I couldn’t sit in because they were too valuable. You have no idea, because by the time you came along, my mother was a very different person.”
“Yes, I’ve heard the stories. But surely you must have some good memories?”
“To me, it’s just one gigantic headache. Don’t forget, I was shipped off to boarding school practically as soon as I could walk, so it never truly felt like home to me. Now, even the thought of having to come back to Singapore to deal with all these property folks fills me with dread. Do you know how many ACS old boys have called me up out of the blue to invite me to lunch, to golf, all that nonsense? People I haven’t seen in eons are suddenly behaving like my best friend because they can smell the money.”
“I’m sorry that’s happening, Dad. But let me ask you something.” Nick took a deep breath as he prepared to make his pitch. “If I can somehow raise the money, would you consider leveraging your thirty percent stake and joining me and possibly Alistair to buy everyone else out? If you give me a little time, I know I can find a way to make it financially worthwhile for us to own the estate.”
The line went silent for a moment, and Nick wasn’t sure if his father was upset or if he was just on a particularly arduous stretch of the hike. Suddenly he spoke up again. “If you care that much about Tyersall Park, why don’t you handle this whole house sale? Do what you think is best. I’ll give you permission to act as my proxy, power of attorney, whatever they call it. In fact, I’ll sign over my thirty percent stake to you right now.”
“Really?” Nick said, not quite believing what he was hearing.
“Sure. I mean, it’s all going be yours one day anyway.”
“I don’t even know what to say.”
“Do whatever you want with the house, just keep me out of it,” Philip said, climbing along the edge of a beautiful cliff-side cemetery overlooking the South Pacific. “Nicky, I’m up at that cemetery by Bronte now. Will you make sure—”
“Yes, Dad, you’ve told me many times before. You want to be buried there. You want to have a view of the humpback whales doing backflips for all of eternity.”
“And if they run out of lots, you’ll find another ocean-side spot? New Zealand, Tasmania, anyplace but Singapore.”
“Of course.” Nick laughed. He hung up the phone and found Rachel staring at him curiously. “That sounded weird, from what I heard.”
“Yeah, it was one of the weirdest calls I’ve ever made. I think my father just gave me his share of Tyersall Park.”
“WHAAT?” Rachel’s eyes got huge.
“He told me he’d sign over his stake, and I can do whatever I want as long as I leave him out of it.”
“What’s the catch?”
“There’s no catch. My dad has never been interested in financial matters at all. He really would rather not be bothered with it.”
“I guess when you’ve been born with it…” Rachel shrugged.
“Precisely! I still can’t believe how easy it was to convince him, though. I thought I was going to have to fly down to Sydney and grovel on my knees.”
“With your father’s share in your hands, you’re the biggest stakeholder now!” Rachel said excitedly.
“No, we are. And this gives us the leverage to stall the bidding war and buy some time.”
“Do you want to go downstairs and break the news to your aunties?”
Nick grinned. “No time like the present.”
They left their bedroom and walked over to the drawing room where Felicity, Victoria, and Alix were all sitting, unusually silent.
“I have an announcement to make,” Nick said boldly.
Felicity had a peculiar look on her face. “Nicky, we just got off the phone. It seems we have a new offer on the table.”
“I have an offer to propose as well.”
“Well, this is a very unusual offer…it comes from someone who wants to preserve the house entirely and not build a single new structure on the estate,” Alix said.
Nick and Rachel exchanged looks of surprise. “Really? And they are offering more than those Zion people?” Rachel asked dubiously.
“A great deal more. The offer is for ten billion dollars.”
Nick was incredulous. “Ten BILLION? Who on earth would want to pay so much money and not develop the property?”
“It’s some fellow from China. He wants to come and see the house tomorrow.”
“China? What’s his name?” Rachel asked.
Felicity frowned. “If I recall correctly, I think Oliver said his name was Jack something. Jack Ting? Jack Ping?”
Nick put his hand on his forehead in dismay. “Oh God—Jack Bing.”
TWENTY-FOUR HOURS EARLIER…
KUALA LUMPUR, MALAYSIA
“So, she is the queen?”
“No, Kitty, she is the mother of the current Sultan of Perawak, so she’s the Queen Mother but she’s called the Dowager Sultana,” Oliver explained through his headset microphone as they rode together in the helicopter.
“Ah. So I have to curtsy to her?”
“You certainly do. She’s as royal as it gets. And remember, only speak when you are spoken to.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re not allowed to speak to her. The sultana initiates the conversation and gets to do all the talking—you simply keep your pretty mouth shut until she asks you a question. And if you have to leave the room for any reason—which you really shouldn’t before she does—but if you feel the sudden urge to vomit, make sure to walk out of the room facing her. The sultana must never see your ass, so you are never to turn your back on her, understood?”
Kitty nodded diligently. “I understand—no talking, no vomiting, no ass-backing.”