Crazy Rich Asians (8 page)

Had it been anyone else, Eleanor would have dismissed all this as nothing but idle
talk among her husband’s bored relatives. But this came from Cassandra, who was usually
dead accurate. She hadn’t earned the nickname “Radio One Asia” for nothing. Eleanor
wondered how Cassandra obtained this latest scoop. Nicky’s big-mouthed second cousin
was the last person he would ever confide in. Cassandra must have gotten the intel
from one of her spies in New York. She had spies everywhere, all hoping to
sah kah
^‡
her by passing along some hot tip.

It did not come as a surprise to Eleanor that her son might have a new girlfriend.
What surprised her (or, more accurately, annoyed her) was the fact that it had taken
her until now to find out. Anyone could see that he was prime target number one, and
over the years there had been plenty of girls Nicky
thought
he had kept hidden from his mother. All of them had been inconsequential in Eleanor’s
eyes, since she knew her son wasn’t ready to marry yet. But this time was different.

Eleanor had a long-held theory about men. She truly believed that for most men, all
that talk of “being in love” or “finding the right one” was absolute nonsense. Marriage
was purely a matter of timing, and whenever a man was finally done sowing his wild
oats and ready to settle down, whichever girl happened to be there at the time would
be
the right one
. She had seen the theory proven time and again; indeed she had caught Philip Young
at precisely the right moment. All the men in that clan tended to marry in their early
thirties, and Nicky was now ripe for the plucking. If someone in New York already
knew so much about Nicky’s relationship, and if he was actually bringing this girl
home to attend his best friend’s wedding, things must be getting serious. Serious
enough that he
purposely
hadn’t mentioned her existence. Serious enough to derail Eleanor’s meticulously laid
plans.

The setting sun refracted its rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the recently
completed penthouse apartment atop Cairnhill Road, bathing the atrium-like living
room in a deep orange glow. Eleanor gazed at the early-evening sky, taking in the
colonnade of buildings clustering around Scotts Road and the expansive views all the
way past the Singapore River to the Keppel Shipyard, the world’s busiest commercial
port. Even after thirty-four years of marriage, she did not take for granted all that
it meant for her to be sitting here with one of the most sought-after views on the
island.

To Eleanor, every single person occupied a specific space in the elaborately constructed
social universe in her mind. Like most of the women in her crowd, Eleanor could meet
another Asian anywhere in the world—say, over dim sum at Royal China in London, or
shopping in the lingerie department of David Jones in Sydney—and within thirty seconds
of learning their name and where they lived, she would implement her social algorithm
and calculate precisely where they stood in her constellation based on who their family
was, who else they were related to, what their approximate net worth might be, how
the fortune was derived, and what family scandals might have occurred within the past
fifty years.

The Taipei Plastics Chus were very new money, made in the seventies and eighties,
most likely. Knowing next to nothing about this family made Eleanor particularly anxious.
How established were they in Taipei society? Who exactly were this girl’s parents,
and how much did she stand to inherit? She needed to know what she was up against.
It was 6:45 a.m. in New York.
High time to wake Nicky up
. She picked up the telephone with one hand, and with the other she held at arm’s
length the long-distance discount calling card
^§
that she always used, squinting at the row of tiny numbers. She dialed a complicated
series of codes and waited for several beeping signals before finally entering the
telephone number. The phone rang four times before Nick’s voice mail picked up:
“Hey, I can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to
you as soon as I can.”

Eleanor was always a little taken aback whenever she heard her
son’s “American” accent. She much preferred the normal Queen’s English he would revert
to whenever he was back in Singapore. She spoke haltingly into the phone: “Nicky,
where are you? Call me tonight and let me know your flight information,
lah
. Everyone in the world except me knows when you’re coming home. Also, are you staying
with us first or with Ah Ma? Please call me back. But don’t call tonight if it’s after
midnight. I am going to take an Ambien now, so I can’t be disturbed for at least eight
hours.”

She put down the phone, and then almost immediately picked it up again; this time
dialing a cell-phone number. “Astrid, ah? Is that you?”

“Oh, hi, Auntie Elle,” Astrid said.

“Are you okay? You sound a bit funny.”

“No, I’m fine, I was just asleep,” Astrid said, clearing her throat.

“Oh. Why are you sleeping so early? Are you sick?”

“No, I’m in Paris, Auntie Elle.”

“
Alamak
, I forgot you were away! Sorry to wake you,
lah
. How is Paris?”

“Lovely.”

“Doing lots of shopping?”

“Not too much,” Astrid replied as patiently as possible. Did her auntie really call
just to discuss shopping?

“Do they still have those lines at Louis Vuitton that they make all the Asian customers
wait in?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t been inside a Louis Vuitton in decades, Auntie Elle.”

“Good for you. Those lines are terrible, and then they only allow Asians to buy one
item. Reminds me of the Japanese occupation, when they forced all the Chinese to wait
in line for scraps of rotten food.”

“Yes, but I can sort of understand why they need these rules, Auntie Elle. You should
see the Asian tourists buying up all the luxury goods, not just at Louis Vuitton.
They are everywhere, buying everything in sight. If there’s a designer label, they
want it. It’s absolutely mad. And you know some of them are just bringing it back
home to resell at a profit.”

“Yah
lah
, it’s those fresh-off-the-boat tourists that give us a bad name. But I’ve been shopping
in Paris since the seventies—I would never wait in any line and be told what I can
buy! Anyway Astrid, I wanted to ask … have you spoken to Nicky recently?”

Astrid paused for a moment. “Um, he called me a couple of weeks ago.”

“Did he tell you when he was coming to Singapore?”

“No, he didn’t mention the exact date. But I’m sure he’ll be there a few days before
Colin’s wedding, don’t you think?”

“You know
lah
, Nicky doesn’t tell me anything!” Eleanor paused, and then continued cautiously.
“Hey, I’m thinking of throwing him and his girlfriend a surprise party. Just a small
party at the new flat, to welcome her to Singapore. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Sure, Auntie Elle. I think they would love that.” Astrid was quite taken aback that
her aunt was being so welcoming to Rachel.
Nick must have really worked his charm overtime
.

“But I don’t really know what she would like, so I don’t know how to plan this party
properly. Can you give me some ideas? Did you meet her when you were in New York last
year?”

“I did.”

Eleanor seethed quietly.
Astrid was in New York last March, which meant this girl had been in the picture for
at least a year now
.

“What’s she like? Is she very Taiwanese?” she asked.

“Taiwanese? Not at all. She seems completely Americanized to me,” Astrid offered,
before regretting what she’d said.

How horrible
, Eleanor thought. She had always found Asian girls with American accents to be quite
ridiculous.
They all sounded like they were faking it, trying to sound so
ang mor.

“So even though the family is from Taiwan, she was raised in America?”

“I didn’t even know she was from Taiwan, to tell you the truth.”

“Really? She didn’t talk about her family back in Taipei?”

“Not at all.”
What was Auntie Elle getting at?
Astrid knew that her aunt was prying, so she felt like she had to present Rachel
in the best possible light. “She’s very smart and accomplished, Auntie Elle. I think
you’ll like her.”

“Oh, so she’s the brainy type, like Nicky.”

“Yes, definitely. I’m told she’s one of the up-and-coming professors in her field.”

Eleanor was nonplussed.
A professor! Nicky was dating a professor! Oh my, was this woman older than him?
“Nicky didn’t tell me what her specialty was.”

“Oh, economic development.”

A cunning, calculating older woman
. Alamak.
This was sounding worse and worse
. “Did she go to university in New York?” Eleanor pressed on.

“No, she went to Stanford, in California.”

“Yes, yes, I know Stanford,” Eleanor said, sounding unimpressed.
It’s that school in California for those people who can’t get into Harvard
.

“It’s a top school, Auntie Elle,” Astrid said, knowing exactly what her aunt was thinking.

“Well, I suppose if you are forced to go to an
American
university—”

“Come on, Auntie Elle. Stanford is a great university for anywhere. I believe she
also went to Northwestern for her master’s. Rachel is very intelligent and capable,
and completely down-to-earth. I think you’ll like her very much.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will,” Eleanor replied.
So, her name was Rachel
. Eleanor paused. She just needed one more piece of information—the correct spelling
of the girl’s surname. But how was she going to get it without Astrid getting suspicious?
Suddenly she had a thought. “I think I’m going to get one of those nice cakes from
Awfully Chocolate and put her name on it. Do you know how she spells her surname?
Is it C-H-U, C-H-O-O, or C-H-I-U?”

“I think it’s just C-H-U.”

“Thank you. You’ve been so helpful,” Eleanor said.
More than you’ll ever know
.

“Of course, Auntie Elle. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help out for
your party. I can’t wait to see your spectacular new flat.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen it yet? I thought your mother bought a unit here as well.”

“She may have, but I haven’t seen it. I can’t keep up with all of my parents’ property
juggling.”

“Of course, of course. Your parents have so many properties around the world, unlike
your poor uncle Philip and me. We just have the house in Sydney and this small little
pigeonhole.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s anything but small, Auntie Elle. Isn’t it supposed to be the most
luxurious condo ever built in Singapore?” Astrid wondered for the millionth time why
all her relatives constantly tried to outdo each other in proclaiming their poverty.

“No,
lah
. It’s just a simple flat—nothing like your father’s house.
Anyway, I’m sorry to wake you. Do you need something to get back to sleep? I take
fifty milligrams of amitriptyline every night, and then an extra ten milligrams of
Ambien if I really want to sleep through the night. Sometimes I add a Lunesta, and
if that doesn’t work, I get out the Valium—”

“I’ll be fine, Auntie Elle.”

“Okay then, bye-bye!” With that, Eleanor hung up the phone. Her gamble had paid off.
Those two cousins were thick as thieves. Why didn’t she think of calling Astrid sooner?

Rachel

Nick brought it up so nonchalantly, as he was sorting the laundry on the Sunday afternoon
before their big trip. Apparently Nick’s parents had only just been informed that
Rachel was coming with him to Singapore. And oh, by the way, they had just been made
aware of her existence too.

“I don’t quite understand … 
you mean your parents never knew about me in all this time?
” Rachel asked in astonishment.

“Yes. I mean, no, they didn’t. But you need to know this has absolutely nothing to
do with you—” Nick began.

“Well, it’s a little hard not to take it personally.”