GohPL: You’re awake! Are you really here?
me: Sure am!
GohPL: Yippeeee!!!!
me: It’s not even 7 and already SO HOT!
GohPL: This is nothing! Are you staying @Nick’s parents?
me: No. We’re @Kingsford Hotel.
GohPL: Nice. Very central. But why are you at a hotel?
me: Nick’s parents are out of town, and he wanted to be at a hotel during wedding week.
GohPL: …
me: But secretly, I think he didn’t want to show up at parents’ house with me on the very first night. LOL!
GohPL: Smart guy. So can I see you today?
me: Today’s great. Nick’s busy helping the groom.
GohPL: Is he the wedding planner? LOL! Meet up at noon @ your lobby?
me: Perfect. Can’t wait to see you!!!
GohPL: XOXO
At noon sharp, Goh Peik Lin came walking up the wide staircase of the Kingsford Hotel, and heads turned as she entered the grand lobby. With her broad nose, round face, and slightly squinty eyes, she was not a natural-born raving beauty, but she was one of those girls who really knew how to make the most out of what she had. And what she had was a voluptuous body and the confidence to pull off bold fashion choices. Today she was wearing a very short white shift dress that hinted at her curves and a pair of strappy gold gladiator sandals. Her long black hair was pulled into a tight, high ponytail and a pair of gold-rimmed sunglasses were clamped on her forehead like a headband. On her earlobes were three-carat diamond solitaire studs, and on her wrist a chunky gold-and-diamond watch. She finished off the look with a gold mesh tote bag, flung casually on her shoulder. She looked like she was ready for the beach club in Saint-Tropez.
“Peik Lin!” Rachel cried, running toward her with her arms out-stretched. Peik Lin squealed loudly upon seeing her, and the friends hugged tightly. “Look at you! You look terrific!” Rachel exclaimed, before turning to introduce Nick.
“Great to meet you,” Peik Lin said in a voice that was surprisingly loud for her tiny frame. She gave Nick the once-over. “So, it took a local boy to finally get her out here.”
“Glad to be of service,” Nick said.
“I know you’re playing wedding planner today, but when do I get to do my CIA debriefing on you? You better promise I’ll see you soon,” Peik Lin said.
“I promise.” Nick laughed and kissed Rachel goodbye. As soon as he was out of earshot, Peik Lin turned to Rachel and raised her eyebrows. “Well he was easy on the eyes. No wonder he managed to get you to stop working and take a holiday for once in your life.”
Rachel just giggled.
“Really, you have no right to poach one of our endangered species! So tall, so fit, and that accent—I normally find Singapore boys with posh English accents to be incredibly pretentious, but on him it just works.”
As they walked down the long flight of red-carpeted stairs, Rachel asked, “Where are we going for lunch?”
“My parents have invited you to our house. They are so excited to see you, and I think you’ll enjoy some traditional home cooking.”
“That sounds great! But if I’m going to be seeing your parents, should I change?” Rachel asked. She was wearing a white cotton blouse with a pair of khaki slacks.
“Oh, you’re fine. My parents are so casual, and they know you are traveling.”
Waiting for them at the entrance was a large metallic-gold BMW with tinted windows. The driver quickly got out and opened the door for them. As the car left the hotel grounds and turned onto a busy street, Peik Lin began to point out the sights. “This is the famous Orchard Road — tourist central. It’s our version of Fifth Avenue.”
“It’s Fifth Avenue on steroids … I’ve never seen so many boutiques and shopping malls, lined up as far as the eye can see!”
“Yes, but I prefer the shopping in New York or LA.”
“You always did, Peik Lin,” Rachel teased, remembering her friend’s frequent shopping jaunts when she was supposed to be in class.
Rachel always knew that Peik Lin came from money. They met during freshman orientation at Stanford, and Peik Lin was the girl who showed up to 8:00 a.m. classes looking as if she had just come from a shopping spree on Rodeo Drive. As a newly arrived international student from Singapore, one of the first things she did was buy herself a Porsche 911 convertible, claiming that since Porsches were such a bargain in America “it’s an absolute crime not to have one.” She soon found Palo Alto to be too provincial, and tried at every opportunity to lure Rachel into skipping class and driving up to San Francisco with her (the Neiman Marcus there was so much better than the one at Stanford Shopping Center). She was generous to a fault, and Rachel spent most of her college years being showered with gifts, enjoying glorious meals at culinary destinations like Chez Panisse and Post Ranch Inn, and going on weekend spa trips all along the California coast courtesy of Peik Lin’s handy American Express black card.
Part of Peik Lin’s charm was that she made no apologies for being loaded — she was completely unabashed when it came to spending money or talking about it. When Fortune Asia magazine did a cover profile on her family’s property development and construction company, she proudly forwarded Rachel a link to the article. She threw lavish parties catered by the Plumed Horse at the town house she rented off campus. At Stanford, this did not exactly make her the most popular girl on campus. The East Coast set ignored her, and the low-key Bay Area types found her much too SoCal. Rachel always thought Peik Lin would have fit in better at Princeton or Brown, but she was glad that fate had sent her this way. Having grown up under far more modest circumstances, Rachel was intrigued by this free-spending girl, who, while being filthy rich, was never a snob about it.
“Has Nick filled you in on the real estate insanity here in Singapore?” Peik Lin asked as the car zipped around Newton Circus.
“He hasn’t.”
“The market is really hot at the moment — everyone’s flipping properties left and right. It’s practically become the national sport. See that building under construction on the left? I just bought two new flats there last week. I got them at an insider price of two point one each.”
“Do you mean two-point-one million?” Rachel asked. It always took her a while to get used to the way Peik Lin spoke about money — the numbers just seemed so unreal.
“Yes, of course. I got them at the insider price, since our company did the construction. The flats are actually worth three million, and by the time the building is completed at the end of the year I can sell each of them for three-point-five, four mil easy.”
“Now why would the prices shoot up so quickly? Isn’t that a sign that the market is in a speculative bubble?” Rachel inquired.
“We’re not in a bubble because the demand is real. All the HNWIs want to be in real estate these days.”
“Um, what are Henwees?” Rachel asked.