“Mom, I’m sorry — I was away all weekend and only just got back,” Rachel replied, raising her voice as she always did whenever she was talking to anyone long distance, even though she could hear her mother perfectly well.
“Where did you go?”
“I went to a remote island in the Indian Ocean for a bachelorette party.”
“Huh? You went to India?” her mother asked, still confused.
“No, not India. It’s an ISLAND in the INDIAN OCEAN, off the coast of Indonesia. It’s an hour plane ride from Singapore.”
“You took a plane trip just for two days? Hiyah, what a waste of money!”
“Well, I wasn’t paying, and besides, I flew on a private plane.”
“You flew on a private plane? Whose plane?”
“The bride’s.”
“Wah! So lucky, ah. Is the bride very rich?”
“Mom, these people …” Rachel began, before discreetly lowering her voice. “Both the bride and the groom come from very wealthy families.”
“Really? What about Nick’s family? Are they rich too?” Kerry asked.
How did she know this would be the next question out of her mom’s mouth?
Rachel glanced toward the bathroom. Nick was still in the shower, but she decided to step out of the room anyway. She walked into the garden toward the quiet, shadier side of the pool. “Yes, Mom, Nick comes from a wealthy family,” Rachel said, sitting down on one of the lounge chairs by the pool.
“You know, this is something I suspected all along. He’s so well brought up. I can tell just by looking at how he behaves during dinner. Such lovely manners, and he always offers me the best part of the meat, like the fish cheek or the juiciest piece of duck.”
“Well, it doesn’t really matter, Mom, because it seems like everyone here is rich. I think I’m still in a bit of a culture shock, or maybe it’s cash shock. The way these people spend money — the houses and the planes and the dozens of maids — you need to see it with your own eyes. It’s as if the recession isn’t happening here. Everything is ultramodern and sparkling clean.”
“That’s all I hear from friends who visit Singapore. That it’s clean, too clean.” Kerry paused for a moment, her voice taking on a tone of concern. “Daughter, you need to watch out.”
“What do you mean, Mom?”
“I know how those families can be, and you don’t want to give them the impression that you are after Nick’s money. From now on, you need to be extra-careful how you present yourself.”
Too late for that, Rachel thought. “I’m just being myself, Mom. I’m not going to change how I behave.” She wanted so much to tell her mother about the dreadful weekend, but she knew it would only worry her needlessly. She had done the same thing with Nick, sharing only the vaguest details. (Besides, they had spent most of the afternoon in a marathon lovemaking session, and she hadn’t wanted to spoil their postcoital bliss with any horror stories.)
“Is Nick being good to you?” her mother asked.
“Of course, Mom. Nick is a sweetheart, as always. He’s just rather distracted right now with his friend’s wedding coming up. It’s going to be the biggest wedding Asia has ever seen, Mom. All the newspapers have been covering it.”
“Really? Should I get one of the Chinese newspapers when I go into San Francisco tomorrow?”
“Sure, you can try. The bride is Araminta Lee, and the groom is Colin Khoo. Look out for their names.”
“What are Nick’s parents like?”
“I don’t know. I’m meeting them tonight.”
“You have been there for almost one week and you still haven’t met his parents?” Kerry remarked, warning lights flashing in her head.
“They were out of the country last week, Mom, and then we were away this weekend.”
“So you are going to meet his parents today?”
“Yes, dinner at their house.”
“But why aren’t you staying with them?” Kerry asked, her concern growing. There were so many little signs that her Americanized daughter did not understand.
“Mom, stop overanalyzing this. Nick’s friend owns the hotel, so we’re staying here during the wedding period for the convenience. But we’re moving to his grandmother’s house next week.”
Kerry didn’t buy her daughter’s explanation. In her mind, it still made no sense that the only son of a Chinese family would be staying in a hotel with his girlfriend instead of at his parents’ house. Unless he was ashamed of Rachel. Or even worse, maybe the parents had forbidden him to bring her home.
“What are you bringing to his parents? Did you get the Estée Lauder gifts like I told you to?”
“No, I figured it would be too personal to give Nick’s mom cosmetics without having even met her. There’s a terrific florist in the hotel, and—”
“No, daughter, never bring flowers! Especially not those white ones you love. White flowers are only for funerals. You should bring them a big basket of mandarin oranges, and hand it to them with both hands. And make sure that you bow your head very deeply when you greet his mother and father for the first time. These are all gestures of respect.”
“I know, Mom. You’re acting like I’m five years old. Why are you suddenly getting so worried?”
“This is the first time you have been serious with a Chinese man. There is so much you don’t know about the proper etiquette with these families.”
“I didn’t realize you could be so old-fashioned,” Rachel teased. “Besides, Nick’s family doesn’t seem really Chinese at all. They seem more British if anything.”
“It doesn’t matter. You are Chinese, and you still need to behave like a properly brought-up Chinese girl,” Kerry said.
“Don’t worry, Mom. It’s just dinner,” Rachel said lightly, even though her anxiety was beginning to build.
18
The Youngs
SINGAPORE
With its prime position atop Cairnhill Road, the Residences at One Cairnhill was a striking marriage of architectural preservation and real estate wizardry. Originally the home of prominent banker Kar Chin Kee and built during the late-Victorian period, the house had long been a landmark. But as land values skyrocketed over the decades, all the other big houses gave way to the developers and high-rise towers sprang up around the graceful mansion like overgrown bamboo. By the time the great man died in 2006, the house was deemed far too historic to tear down, yet far too valuable to remain a single residence. So Kar Chin Kee’s heirs decided to preserve the original structure, converting it into the base of a sleek thirty-story glass tower where Nick’s parents now lived (when they were in Singapore, that is).
As the taxi climbed the hill toward the imposing Corinthian-columned portico, Nick explained its history to Rachel. “Uncle Chin Kee was a friend of my grandmother’s, so we used to visit every Chinese New Year, and I would be made to recite some elaborate poem in Mandarin. Then the old man, who reeked of cigars, would give me a hong bao[71] stuffed with five hundred dollars.”
“That’s insane!” Rachel exclaimed. “The biggest hong bao I ever got in my life was fifty dollars, and that was from this asshole dating my mom who was really trying to win me over. What did you do with all that money?”
“Are you kidding? My parents kept it, of course. They kept all my New Year money — I never saw a cent of it.”
Rachel looked at him in horror. “That’s just wrong! Hong baos are as sacred as Christmas presents.”
71
Mandarin for the little red packets of money that are given out by married adults and the elderly during Chinese New Year to children and unmarried young people as an act of well-wishing. Originally a token coin or several dollars, the