“Ha! Yes. You should see that wife of his! She changes outfits four times a day, and every night it’s a different ball gown and different jewelry. I don’t know where she thinks she is—this is a cruise ship, not the Oscars.”

“Auntie Belinda is just doing what she loves, Mom.”

“She’s trying to rub it in all our faces, that’s what she’s doing! And of course, your cousin Vivian has to ask her what she’s wearing every time, and Belinda always says something like, ‘Oh, this one I bought in Toronto at Holt Renfrew, or this is a Liberace—I bought it on sale. It was $7,500, marked down to $3,000.’ ”

“Liberace? I don’t think he ever designed clothes, Mom.”

“You know that Italian designer, the one that got shot in Miami.”

“Oh, you mean Versace.”

“Hiyah, Liberace, Versace, it’s all the same to me. If it’s not on sale at Ross Dress for Less, I don’t care what the brand is.”

“Well, I’m sure Auntie Belinda appreciates Vivian’s attention. She’s clearly the only person on the cruise Auntie Belinda can talk to about high fashion.” Rachel took a bite from her share of the cake.

“You and Nick should have come. All your cousins would have enjoyed spending time with you. You know this is the first holiday Vivian’s taken since Ollie was born?”

“I would have loved to see everyone, Mom, but the dates just didn’t work with my teaching schedule. I couldn’t imagine Nick on a cruise ship, though—I think he’d jump overboard before the ship even left port.”

“Hahaha. Your husband only likes those private yachts!”

“No, no—you got it all wrong. He’d much rather rough it than be on some luxury cruise—I could see him on some sort of expedition frigate going to Antarctica or on a fishing boat in Nova Scotia, but not on any kind of floating palace.”

“A fishing boat! All these rich kids who grew up with everything just want to live like they are poor. How is Nick anyway?”

“He’s fine. But you know what, his grandmother had a heart attack last week.”

“Oh really? Is he going to go back to Singapore?”

“I don’t know, Mom. You know how sensitive he gets about anything having to do with his grandmother.”

“Nick should go back. You should convince him to go back—this might be his last chance to see the old lady.”

Rachel’s radar suddenly went off. “Wait a minute…you’ve been talking to Nick’s mom, haven’t you?”

Kerry Chu paused for a moment too long, before saying, “Noooo. We haven’t spoken in ages.”

“Don’t lie to me, Mom. Only Eleanor calls Nick’s grandmother the ‘old lady’!”

“Hiyah, I can’t lie to you, you know me too well! Yes, Eleanor called. She’s called a few times now and won’t leave me alone. She thinks only you can convince Nick to go home.”

“I can’t talk Nick into doing anything he doesn’t want to do.”

“Did you know that Nick was supposed to inherit that house?”

“Yes, Mom—I know. I’m the whole reason she cut him out of her will. So don’t you see I’m the last person to tell him to go back?”

“But his grandmother only has a few weeks to live. If he plays his cards right, he could still get the house.”

“Jesus, Mom, stop parroting Eleanor Young!”

“Hiyah, no Eleanor! I’m speaking as your mother—I am thinking of you! Think about how this house could benefit your life.”

“Mom, we live in New York. That house has no benefit to us except as one gigantic cleaning nightmare!”

“I’m not suggesting you should live there. You would sell it. Think of the windfall you’d have.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Mom, we’re already so fortunate compared to the rest of the planet.”

“I know, I know. But imagine how your life could change right now if Nick inherits that house. It’s worth hundreds of millions, so I’m told. That’s like winning the Powerball lottery. This is crazy money, life-changing money, enough money so your poor mother doesn’t have to work so hard anymore.”

“Mom—you know you could have retired years ago, but you love what you do. You’ve been the top property agent in Cupertino three years running.”

“I know, but I just wanted you to think about what it would be like to have that kind of fortune at your fingertips. I want to see all the good things that you and Nick can do with that money. Like that Chinese girl who’s married to that Facebook fellow—they’ve given away billions. Think of how proud her parents must be of her!”

Rachel looked over at Sylvia, who was leaning back in her chair precariously as she stretched to reach for the cake on the coffee table.

“I can’t talk about this now, Mom. Sylvia’s about to fall over and break her neck.”

“Call me back! We need to—”

Rachel hung up on her mother just as her friend had scraped a nice bit of chocolate-and-coconut frosting off with her finger and comfortably returned to her usual seated position.

“Way to go. Using me as an excuse to get off the phone with your mom.” Sylvia cackled as she licked her finger clean.

Rachel smiled. “Sometimes I forget you can speak Mandarin.”

“A lot better than you, banana girl! Sounds like she was in turbo nagging mode.”

“Yeah, she was fixating on something and wouldn’t let it go.”

“If she’s anything like my mom, she’s going to call you back tonight and try the guilt angle.”

“You’re probably right. Which is why I need to see what Nick is up to for lunch.”

—

A few hours later, Rachel and Nick were seated at their favorite window table at Tea & Sympathy. Nicky Perry, the owner, had been by to share a funny video of Cuthbert, her bulldog, and their lunches had just been placed on the table. It was a snowy January afternoon and the windows had fogged up inside the cozy restaurant, creating an even more inviting atmosphere for Rachel to enjoy the chicken-and-leek pie in front of her.

“This was the perfect idea. How did you know I was craving T&S for lunch?” Nick asked as he tucked into his usual English bacon, avocado, and tomato sandwich.

Taking advantage of his good mood, Rachel got right to the point. “So I spoke to my mom a little earlier. Apparently, our mothers have been talking—”

“Oh God, not the grandchildren talk again!”

“No, this time it was all about you.”

“Let me guess…my mother has enlisted her help to convince me to return to Singapore.”

“You’re psychic.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “My mother is so predictable. You know, I don’t think she really cares about my grandmother dying—she’s just fixated on me getting Tyersall Park. It’s her entire raison d’être.”

Rachel broke the thick golden pastry crust of her chicken pie with a fork and let some of the steam escape. She took her first tentative bite of the piping-hot creamy sauce before speaking again. “What I’ve never really understood is why everyone thinks the house is supposed to go to you. What about your father, or your aunts? Don’t they have more right to the house?”