“Why don’t you buy us all out? You have the majority stake, and we’ll sell you our shares at a family discount. This way we all can keep our rooms, and Tyersall Park can be like our private family hotel.”
Alix looked up from her aromatic chicken rice. What on earth was Victoria suggesting? She had no intention of selling her share at a discount.
Philip shook his head as he swallowed a mouthful of fried rice. “First of all, I can’t afford to buy you all out, but that’s beside the point. What would I do with this house? I live in Sydney most of the year—I can’t be bothered to maintain this white elephant.”
“Cat, wouldn’t you like to have Tyersall Park? You can afford it, can’t you?” Victoria asked her sister hopefully.
“Everything about this place reminds me of Mummy, and I’d be too sad,” Catherine mused, picking at her noodles without much of an appetite.
Alix spoke up. “Cat’s right. This house just isn’t the same now that Mummy’s gone. Look, Mummy clearly wanted us to sell it. She knew none of us would really want to take it on.”
Victoria looked distressed. “Then what happens to me? Am I supposed to move in to a flat? Goodness gracious, I’d feel like I’m suddenly part of the ‘new poor’!”
“Victoria, no one cares anymore,” Alix argued. “Look at all our friends, our cousins—the T’siens, the Tans, the Shangs. No one we know still lives in their original houses. Buitenzorg, Eu Villa, 38 Newton Road, the House of Jade. All the great estates are long gone. Even Command House is now part of bloody UBS. I’ve lived in a three-bedroom condo for decades and I love it.”
Harry nodded in agreement. “I dream of the luxury of living someplace small, like one of those HDB flats! Why, I hear that most of them even have elevators these days!”*3
Alix looked around the table at each of her siblings. “A property of this size has not come on the market in almost a century—this is like Central Park going up for sale in New York. In this neighborhood, the going rate is $1,000 per square foot. We have more than 2.8 million square feet here, and that adds up to $2.8 billion. But I think developers would pay even more, and there’s going to be a bidding war. Trust me, I’ve been flipping properties in Hong Kong for years. We have to orchestrate this very methodically, because this is our one chance to make an absolute killing.”
Victoria gave a dramatic sigh, although secretly she was already thinking of the cute topiaries she would put on the doorstep of her town house in London. “Okay, so let’s sell the house. But we can’t appear to want to sell it anytime soon. That would be unseemly.”
“I think we should wait at least six months. We wouldn’t want to look like greedy pigs,” Felicity stated as she sucked on a fish bone.
Philip took a sip of his coffee and winced. “All right then, I’m heading back to Sydney tonight—I can’t stand another day without a proper flat white. I’ll be back in six months and we can officially put the house on the market.”
Just then, Ah Ling entered the dining room with an announcement: “Something just arrived that I think you all should see.”
Two Gurkha guards wheeled a large flatbed dolly into the room. Piled on it was a mountain of colorful ribboned boxes, all from Ladurée in Paris. There were boxes upon boxes of chocolates and truffles, macaroons and cakes—all manner of delicious confections from the legendary dessert maker. Crowning this elaborate display was a croquembouche, with a large embossed gold card affixed to the front. Ah Ling took the card and handed it to Philip. He tore it open and began to laugh.
“What is it?” Eleanor asked excitedly.
Philip read the card aloud. “Bright Star Properties wishes the Young family prosperity and good tidings in the coming Year of the Goat. May we respectfully extend an all-cash tender offer of $1.88 billion for the purchase of Tyersall Park.”
Felicity gasped, while Alix turned to Victoria with a smirk. “I don’t think we have to worry about looking like greedy pigs.”
* * *
*1 Chinese sausage.
*2 Steamed glutinous rice with chicken in a lotus leaf wrap, my dim sum favorite.
*3 Harry Leong has obviously never set foot in a Housing and Development Board flat in his entire life, but like so many oblivious one-percenters is always fantasizing about downsizing and moving in to an HDB flat “since I am entitled to one.”
CHAPTER TEN
28 CLUNY PARK ROAD, SINGAPORE
Kitty was floating on an inflatable lounger in the middle of her pool in an alluring one-shoulder cutout Araks swimsuit when she heard the car returning to the house. She had been waiting impatiently for the past hour, after sending a maid to the bookstore to buy a whole stack of the new issue of Tattle, which had just been released this morning.
Kitty paddled her lounger over to the edge of the pool as the maid came rushing down the stone steps with a stack of magazines in her arms, followed by the driver, who was also carrying a big stack. “What took you so long?” Kitty asked.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. We got there before the bookstore opened, but they had to unpack the magazines from the boxes and scan them into the computer first. But here, we bought all forty copies,” she said, handing Kitty the top copy from her stack.
It was wrapped in plastic, with a big gold panel over the cover and words that screamed: “OUR WILDEST ISSUE EVER!” Kitty felt her heart race as she tried to tear into the plastic, desperate to get to the magazine. She couldn’t wait to see her photo on the cover under the headline “Princess Kitty.” The lounger wobbled, and her wet fingers kept slipping against the plastic.
“Here, let me help you!” the maid said, sensing her mistress’s excitement. She ripped through the plastic, slipped the glossy magazine out of its sleeve, and handed it to Kitty.
Kitty stared at the cover, her face changing from anticipation to absolute horror. Staring back at her on the cover of Tattle was a photograph of Colette and her husband, Lucien, seated at a breakfast table with a huge orangutan.
“Aaaahhh! What is this? This is the wrong issue!” Kitty screamed from her reclining position.
“No ma’am, this is the new issue. Brand-new. I saw them take it out of the boxes.”
Kitty scrutinized the cover, where the headline read: LORDS OF THE JUNGLE: THE EARL AND COUNTESS OF PALLISER.
“No! No! No! This can’t be real,” Kitty sat up on the lounger, tearing through the magazine maniacally and getting the pages wet as she searched for her story. What happened to her beautiful photo shoot with Nigel Barker? The photos of Harvard kissing her? They were nowhere to be found. Instead, the feature article was a ten-page spread dedicated to pictures of Colette and Lucien’s visit to a conservation center in Indonesia. There were photos of Colette hosting a tea party for a family of orangutans at a wrought-iron table by the edge of a river, Colette trekking through the rain forest with a group of primatologists, and Colette cradling a baby orangutan.
By this point, Kitty’s lounger had drifted to the middle of the pool, and she screeched at the maid, “Get me my phone!”
Kitty jabbed at her phone angrily, calling Oliver T’sien. It rang a few times before he picked up.