Crazy Rich Asians (42 page)

Annabel knew at that moment she had made all the right decisions for her daughter—enrolling
her at Far Eastern Kindergarten, choosing Methodist Girls’ School over Singapore American
School, forcing her to go to Youth Fellowship at First Methodist even though they
were Buddhists, and whisking her away to Cheltenham Ladies’ College in England for
proper finishing. Her daughter had grown up as one of these people—people of breeding
and taste. There wasn’t a single diamond over fifteen carats in this crowd, not a
single Louis Vuitton anything, no one looking over your shoulder for bigger fish.
This was a family gathering, not a networking opportunity. These people were so completely
at ease, so well mannered.

Outside on the east terrace, Astrid hid behind the dense row of Italian cypresses,
waiting for Michael to arrive at her parents’ house. As soon as she caught sight of
him, she rushed to the front door to meet him so that it would appear they had arrived
together. After the initial flurry of greetings, Michael was able to corner her by
the staircase. “Is Cassian upstairs?” he mumbled under his breath.

“No, he isn’t,” Astrid said quickly before being swept into an embrace by her cousin
Cecilia Cheng.

“Where is he? You’ve been hiding him from me all week,” Michael pressed on.

“You’ll see him soon enough,” Astrid whispered as she beamed at her great-aunt Rosemary.

“This was your way of tricking me into coming tonight, wasn’t it?” Michael said angrily.

Astrid took Michael by the hand and led him into the front parlor next to the staircase.
“Michael, I promised you would see Cassian tonight—just be patient and let’s get through
dinner.”

“That wasn’t the deal. I’m leaving.”

“Michael, you can’t leave. We still have to coordinate plans for the wedding on Saturday.
Auntie Alix is hosting a breakfast before the church ceremony and—”

“Astrid, I’m not going to the wedding.”

“Oh come on, don’t joke like this.
Everyone
is going.”

“By ‘everyone,’ I suppose you are referring to everyone with a billion dollars or
more?” Michael seethed.

Astrid rolled her eyes. “Come on, Michael, I know we’ve had a disagreement, and I
know you’re probably feeling ashamed, but as I said before,
I forgive you
. Let’s not make a huge issue out of this. Come home.”

“You don’t get it, do you? I’m not coming home. I’m not going to the wedding.”

“But what are people going to say if you don’t show up at the wedding?” Astrid looked
at him nervously.

“Astrid, I’m not the groom! I’m not even related to the groom. Who’s going to give
a shit whether I’m there or not?”

“You can’t do this to me. Everyone will notice, and everyone will talk,” Astrid pleaded,
trying not to panic.

“Tell them I had to fly off at the last minute for work.”

“Where are you going? Are you flying off to Hong Kong to see your mistress?” Astrid
asked accusingly.

Michael paused a moment. He never wanted to resort to this, but he felt that he had
been left with little choice. “If it makes you feel better to know—yes, I’m off to
see my mistress. I’m leaving on Friday after work, just so I can get away from this
carnival. I can’t watch these people spend a gazillion dollars on a wedding when half
the world is starving.”

Astrid stared at him numbly, reeling from what he had said. At that moment, Cathleen,
the wife of her brother Henry, walked into the room.

“Oh thank God you’re here,” Cathleen said to Michael. “The cooks are having a fit
because some transformer blew and that damn high-tech commercial oven we put in last
year won’t work. Apparently it’s gone into self-cleaning mode, and there are four
Peking ducks roasting in there—”

Michael glared at his sister-in-law. “Cathleen, I have a master’s degree from Caltech,
specializing in encryption technology. I’m not your fucking handyman!” he fumed, before
storming out of the room.

Cathleen stared after him in disbelief. “What’s wrong with Michael? I’ve never seen
him like this.”

“Oh don’t mind him, Cathleen,” Astrid said, attempting a weak laugh. “Michael’s upset
because he just found out that he has to rush
off to Hong Kong for some work emergency. Poor thing, he’s afraid he might miss the
wedding.”

As the Daimler chauffeuring Eddie, Fiona, and their three children approached the
gates of 11 Nassim Road, Eddie did one last run-through.

“Kalliste, what are you going to do when they start to serve the coffee and desserts?”

“I’m going to ask Great-aunt Felicity whether I can play the piano.”

“And what are you going to play?”

“The Bach partita, and then the Mendelssohn. Can I also play my new Lady Gaga song?”

“Kalliste, I swear to God if you play any of that damn Lady Gaga I’m going to break
every one of your fingers.”

Fiona stared out the car window, ignoring her husband. This is how he was every time
he was about to see his Singapore relatives.

“Augustine, what’s the matter with you? Button your jacket,” Eddie instructed.

The little boy obeyed, carefully buttoning the two gold buttons on his blazer.

“Augustine, how many times have I told you—do not ever, EVER button the last button,
do you hear me?”

“Papa, you said never button the last button on my three-button jacket, but you never
told me what to do when there’s only two buttons,” the boy whimpered, tearing up.

“Happy now?” Fiona said to her husband, taking the boy into her lap and gently smoothing
out the hair on his forehead.

Eddie gave her an annoyed look. “Now everybody listen up … Constantine, what are we
going to do when we get out of the car?”

“We are going to get into formation behind you and Mummy,” his eldest son answered.

“And what is the order?”

“Augustine goes first, then Kalliste, then me,” the boy droned in a bored voice.

“Perfect. Wait till everyone sees our splendid entrance!” Eddie said excitedly.

Eleanor entered the front hall behind her son and his girlfriend, eager to observe
how the girl would be received. Nick had obviously been preparing her—Rachel was cleverly
wearing a demure-looking navy blue dress and no jewelry except for tiny pearl earrings.
Looking into the drawing room, Eleanor could see her husband’s extended clan all clustered
by the French doors leading out to the terrace. She remembered as if it were yesterday
meeting them for the first time. It was at the old T’sien estate near Changi, before
the place was turned into that frightful country club all the foreigners went to.
The T’sien boys with their roving eyes were tripping over themselves to talk to her,
but the Shangs barely deigned to look in her direction—those Shangs were only comfortable
speaking to families they had known for at least two generations. But here Nick was
boldly leading the girl straight into the frying pan, attempting to introduce Rachel
to Victoria Young, the snottiest of Philip’s sisters, and Cassandra Shang—the imperious
gossip-monger otherwise known as Radio One Asia.
Alamak, this was going to be good
.

“Rachel, this is my aunt Victoria and my cousin Cassandra, just back from England.”

Rachel smiled nervously at the ladies. Victoria, with her wiry chin-length bob and
slightly rumpled peach cotton dress, had the look of an eccentric sculptress, while
whippet-thin Cassandra—with her graying hair severely parted into a tight Frida Kahlo
bun—wore an oversize khaki shirtdress and an African necklace festooned with little
wooden giraffes. Victoria shook Rachel’s hand coolly, while Cassandra kept her spindly
arms crossed over her chest, her lips pursed in a tight smile as she assessed Rachel
from head to toe. Rachel was about to inquire about their vacation when Victoria,
looking over her shoulder, announced in that same clipped English accent that all
of Nick’s aunts had, “Ah, here come Alix and Malcolm. And there’s Eddie and Fiona.
Good grief, look at those children, all dressed up like that!”

“Alix was moaning on about how much money Eddie and Fiona spend on those kids. Seems
they only wear
designer
clothes,” Cassandra said, stretching out “deee-siiign-er” as if it were some sort
of grotesque affliction.

“
Gum sai cheen
!
^†
Where on earth does Eddie think he’s taking
them? It’s a hundred and five degrees outside and they are dressed for a shooting
weekend at Balmoral,” Victoria scoffed.

“They must be sweating like little pigs in those tweed jackets,” Cassandra said, shaking
her head.

Just then Rachel noticed a couple entering the room. A young man with the tousled
hair of a Korean pop idol lumbered toward them with a girl dressed in a lemon-yellow
and white-striped tube dress that clung to her body like sausage casing.

“Ah, here comes my cousin Alistair. And that must be Kitty, the girl he’s madly in
love with,” Nick remarked. Even from across the room, Kitty’s hair extensions, false
eyelashes, and frosty-pink lipstick stood out dramatically, and as they approached,
Rachel realized that the white stripes in the girl’s dress were actually sheer, with
her engorged nipples clearly showing through.

“Everyone, I’d like you all to meet my girlfriend Kitty Pong,” Alistair proudly beamed.

The room went dead silent as everyone stood gaping at those chocolate-brown nipples.
While Kitty basked in the attention, Fiona swiftly herded her children out of the
room. Eddie glared at his kid brother, furious that his entrance had been upstaged.
Alistair, thrilled by the sudden attention, blurted out, “And I want to announce that
last night I took Kitty to the top of Mount Faber and asked her to marry me!”

“We’re engaged!” Kitty squealed, waving around the large cloudy-pink diamond on her
hand.

Felicity gasped audibly, looking at her sister, Alix, for some reaction. Alix gazed
into the middle distance, not making eye contact with anyone. Her son nonchalantly
continued. “Kitty, meet my cousin Nicky, my auntie Victoria, and my cousin Cassandra.
And you must be Rachel.”

Without missing a beat, Victoria and Cassandra turned to Rachel, cutting Alistair
dead. “Now Rachel, I hear you are an economist? How fascinating! Will you explain
to me why the American economy can’t seem to dig out of its sorry state?” Victoria
asked shrilly.

“It’s that Tim Paulson fellow, isn’t it?” Cassandra cut in. “Isn’t he a puppet controlled
by all the Jews?”