Speaking of acquisitions, Michael’s new company has been on a tear! He bought two U.S.-based tech start-ups last year, giving me an excuse to accompany him on a couple of trips to California to visit my brother. Alex and Salimah now have three kids and live in a lovely home in Brentwood. This year my mum finally agreed to come with me to LA to meet her grandchildren (Dad still refuses to acknowledge Salimah and “those” kids). Of course Mum fell in love with them—they are adorable.

The same cannot be said for Cassian, who’s been more than a handful. I made it through the terrible twos but no one told me about the terrible fives! You ought to count your lucky stars that you have girls. We are now trying to decide whether to hold him back another year before he starts primary school at ACS. (Of course, Michael doesn’t think he should go to ACS at all and wants him to go to an international school. What do you think of that?)

Also, in October we moved to a new house on Ridout Road. Yes, finally! Although it didn’t take much to convince Michael to leave our little flat now that he could buy a house with his own money. It’s one of those lovely Kerry Hill–designed bungalows from the 1990s—classic tropical modern built around three courtyards with reflecting pools, etc. We hired a young local architect who had apprenticed with Peter Zumthor to do some updating, and a fantastic Italian landscape designer to make the grounds less Bali and more Sardinia. (Yes, I’m still inspired by our trip to Cala di Volpe all those years ago!)

So of course moving and setting up the new house became a full-time job, even though I supposedly had a whole design team at my disposal. But guess what? We’re already outgrowing 9,000 sq. ft. as Michael has become addicted to collecting historical artifacts and vintage Porsches. What was supposed to be our downstairs living room is now practically a car showroom. Can you believe it? Two years ago, I couldn’t even convince my husband to buy a new suit!

Anyway, how are you? I saw you on the cover of Wired last month—so proud of you! How are the girls? How’s Isabel? From your last e-mail it sounded like the two of you are in a really great place. What did I tell you? A week in the Maldives with no phones or Wi-Fi will reinvigorate any marriage!

If you’re coming to S’pore this year please let me know—I’ll give you a tour of my new car dealership!

xo,

A

From: Charlie Wu<[email protected]>

Date: February 10, 2013 at 1:29 AM

To: Astrid Teo<[email protected]>

Subject: Re: HNY!

Hi Astrid,

The museum work is perfect for you—I’ve always thought you’d make a great force in the cultural scene. Glad you finally have a home with enough room to swing a cat. Not sure if you’d consider me lucky these days: my younger one, Delphine (4), has become an exhibitionist (the other day she stripped off all her clothes and ran around Lane Crawford for ten minutes before the nannies caught her—I suspect they were too busy shopping the pre–New Year sale to notice), and her older sister, Chloe (7), is going through a major tomboy phase. She found my old Northern Exposure DVDs and for some reason has fallen in love with the show (even though I think she’s too young to get any of it). She now wants to be either a bush pilot or a sheriff. Isabel is not at all happy about this, but at least she’s much happier with me these days.

Happy Year of the Snake to you and your family!

Regards,

Charlie

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From: Astrid Teo<[email protected]>

Date: February 10, 2013 at 7:35 AM

To: Charlie Wu<[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Re: HNY!

God, I remember how we used to binge on Northern Exposure back in our London days! I was totally obsessed with John Corbett. Wonder what he’s up to these days? Remember that idea you had, inspired by Adam the chef’s stint at the Brick? You wanted to find an old truck-stop diner in the middle of nowhere—on some desolate road in the Orkney Islands or Canada’s Northwest Territories—and hire a genius chef who’d apprenticed in the best restaurants in Paris to work there. We’d serve the most exquisite, innovative food, but we would not redecorate the place one bit and still serve on the old plastic diner plates and charge diner prices. I would be the waitress and wear only Ann Demeulemeester. And you would be the bartender and serve only the finest single malt scotches and the rarest wines, but we’d scrape off all the labels so no one would know. People would just stumble in every once in a while by accident and be treated to the best food in the world. I still think it’s a brilliant idea! Don’t worry too much about your daughters. I think nudism is a beautiful thing in children (but maybe you ought to send her to Sweden for the summer), and my cousin Sophie went through a tomboy phase too. (Oh wait a minute, she’s over thirty now and I’ve still never seen her in makeup or a skirt. Oops.)

xo,

A

p.s. What’s up with your increasingly minimalist responses? Your last few e-mails have been painfully short compared to my tomes. If I didn’t know how busy and important you are taking over the world, I would start to get offended!

From: Charlie Wu<[email protected]>

Date: February 10, 2013 at 9:04 AM

To: Astrid Teo<[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Re: Re: HNY!

John Corbett has been living with Bo Derek since 2002. I think he’s doing just fine.

Regards, C

p.s. I’m not taking over the world—your husband is. I’ve been busy on a hunt to find a genius chef who is willing to live in Patagonia and cook for six customers a month.

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* * *

* Eaten during Chinese New Year in Singapore, yee sang, or “raw fish,” consists of a huge plate piled with raw fish, shredded pickled vegetables, and a variety of spices and sauces. On cue, the diners at the table stand and toss the ingredients in the air with their chopsticks while wishing each other prosperity and abundance. Known as the “prosperity toss,” the belief is that the higher you toss, the higher your fortunes will grow.

5

TYERSALL PARK

SINGAPORE, CHINESE NEW YEAR, MORNING

Three Mercedes S-Class sedans in the identical shade of iridium silver bearing license plate numbers TAN01, TAN02, and TAN03 idled in the morning traffic on their way to Tyersall Park. In the lead car, Lillian May Tan, matriarch of the family with the surname so unabashedly flaunted on its vehicles, peered out at the red-and-gold Chinese New Year decorations that assaulted every fa?ade along Orchard Road. Every year, the decorations seemed to get more and more elaborate and less and less tasteful. “What in God’s name is that?”

Seated in the front passenger seat, Eric Tan studied the ten-story LED billboard flashing an epileptic-seizure-inducing animation and let out a chuckle. “Grandma, I think it’s supposed to be a red snake…entering some…um, golden tunnel.”

“It’s a curious-looking snake,” Eric’s new wife, Evie, commented in her high-pitched voice.

Lillian May refrained from mentioning what she thought the engorged creature with the flared head resembled, but it reminded her of something she had seen a long time ago when her late husband—bless his soul—took her to a most peculiar live show in Amsterdam. “We should have taken Clemenceau Avenue! Now we’re stuck in all this Orchard Road traffic,” Lillian May said, fretting.

“Aiyah, no matter which way we go, it’s going to be jammed up,” her daughter Geraldine said.