“It’s true. Every time I open Business Times I see your face. Do you have a hot tip for me?” Eleanor asked as she joined the group.

“Auntie Elle, from what my friends at G. K. Goh tell me, you’re the one who could give me a few stock tips!” Michael laughed, clearly enjoying this new adoration from his wife’s relatives.

“Rubbish, lah! I am just a small fry compared to you. Excuse me, but I need to borrow your wife for a minute,” Eleanor said, grabbing hold of Astrid’s elbow and steering her down the long gallerylike drawing room to the corner by the grand piano. The young pianist, who looked like he was barely out of his first year at the Raffles Music College as he sweated profusely in his suit, was playing some innocuous Chopin étude.

Astrid knew from the force of her grip that Eleanor meant business. Talking over the music, Eleanor said, “I want you to tell me the truth. Is Nicky getting married in California?”

Astrid took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“And when is this happening?”

“I don’t want to lie to you, but I specifically promised Nicky I would not give out any details, so you’ll have to ask him yourself.”

“You know as well as I do that my son has refused to take my calls for over two years!”

“Well, that’s between you and him. Please don’t put me in the middle of this.”

“You are in the middle of this whether you like it or not, because you two have been keeping secrets!” Eleanor was fuming.

Astrid sighed. She hated confrontations like this. “Given the circumstances, I think you know exactly why I can’t tell you.”

“Come on, I have a right to know!”

“Yes, but you have no right to sabotage his wedding.”

“I’m not going to sabotage anything! You have to tell me! I’M HIS MOTHER, DAMN IT!” Eleanor exploded, forgetting where she was. The shocked pianist stopped playing, and suddenly all eyes in the room were on them. Astrid could see that even her grandmother was peering over in their direction with displeasure.

Astrid pursed her lips, refusing to say anything.

Eleanor looked at her sharply. “This is unbelievable!”

“No, what’s unbelievable is how you can expect Nicky to want you anywhere near his wedding,” Astrid said, her voice shaking, before she stalked off.

? ? ?

Three weeks before the New Year, the chefs from the Young, Shang, and T’sien households would gather at Tyersall Park’s cavernous kitchen to begin the marathon production of New Year delicacies. Marcus Sim, the Shang family’s acclaimed pastry chef based at their estate in England, would fly in to prepare all manner of nyonya desserts—rainbow-hued kueh lapis, delicately sculpted ang koo kueh, and of course, his famous kueh bangkit cookies with Marcona almonds. Ah Lian, the T’siens’ longtime cook, would supervise the team responsible for the labor-intensive preparation of pineapple tarts, sinfully sweet nien gao, and savory tsai tao kueh radish cakes. And Ah Ching, the chef at Tyersall Park, would oversee the New Year’s Day luncheon where a gigantic baked ham (with her famous pineapple brandy sauce) would make its annual appearance.

But for the first time in as many years as she could remember, Eleanor did not enjoy her lunch. She hardly touched any of the ham that Geraldine Tan proclaimed to be “even juicier than last year’s,” and she couldn’t even face her favorite neen gao. She loved the way the sticky-rice-flour dessert cake was prepared here—cut into half-moon slices, dipped in egg batter, and fried to a golden brown so that the outer layer of the cake was light and crisp, yet sweet and gooey the minute you bit into it. But today, she just didn’t have the appetite for anything. Following strict seating protocol, she was trapped next to Bishop See Bei Sien, and she glared at her husband on the other side of the table who was tucking into another helping of ham as he chatted with the bishop’s wife. How could he eat at a time like this? An hour ago, she had asked Philip whether he had heard anything regarding Nicky and a wedding, and he had shocked her by saying, “Of course.”

“WHAAAT? Why didn’t you tell me, lah?”

“There was nothing to tell. I knew we weren’t going to go.”

“What do you mean? TELL ME EVERYTHING!” Eleanor demanded.

“Nicky called me in Sydney and asked me if I wanted to come to his wedding. I asked if you were invited, and he said no. So I told him, Good luck chap, but I won’t be coming if your mother doesn’t,” Philip calmly explained.

“Where is the wedding? When is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Alamak! How can you not know when he invited you?”

Philip sighed. “I didn’t think to ask. It wasn’t relevant since we weren’t going.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the conversation in the first place?”

“Because I knew you were going to be unreasonable about it.”

“You are a moron! An absolute moron!” Eleanor screeched.

“See, I knew you were going to be unreasonable.”

Eleanor played with her braised noodles, seething on the inside as she pretended to listen to the bishop complain about some pastor’s wife who was spending millions trying to become a famous pop star. At the children’s table, Cassian’s au pair was trying to coax him into finishing his lunch. “I don’t want noodles! I want ice cream!” the boy fussed.

“It’s Chinese New Year. No ice cream for you today,” his au pair said firmly.

Suddenly, an idea came to Eleanor. She whispered to one of the serving maids, “Can you please tell Ah Ching that I have a sore throat from all this heaty food and I’m desperately craving some ice cream?”

“Ice cream, ma’am?”

“Yes, any flavor. Anything you might have in the kitchen. But don’t bring it to me here—I’ll meet you in the library.”

? ? ?

Fifteen minutes later, after having paid off Cassian’s au pair with five crisp hundred-dollar bills, Eleanor was sitting at the black lacquered scholar’s table in the library, watching the little boy devour an ice-cream sundae out of a large silver bowl.

“Cassian, when your mummy is away, you just tell Ludivine to call me, and my driver will come and pick you up and take you for ice cream anytime you like,” Eleanor said.

“Really?” Cassian said, wide-eyed.

“Absolutely. It will be our little secret. When is your mother going away? Did she tell you she is getting on an aeroplane and going to America soon?”

“Uh-huh. In March.”

“Did she tell you where she was going? Is she going to Cupertino? Or San Francisco? Los Angeles? Disneyland?”

“LA,” Cassian said while gulping down another spoonful.

Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief. March gave her enough time. She patted the boy on the head and smiled as he stained the entire front of his Bonpoint dress shirt with hot fudge. Serves Astrid right for trying to keep things from me!

* * *

*1 Hokkien for “red packet,” these red envelopes embossed in gold are stuffed with cold hard cash and are given out during Chinese New Year by married couples to single people, especially children, for good luck. Amounts vary according to the giver’s income bracket, but it is safe to say that the minimum amount in more affluent households is a hundred dollars. By the end of the week, most kids make out with thousands of dollars, and for some, their entire allowances for the year depend on this ritual. In another departure from tradition, the ang pows at Tyersall Park were made of a pale pink vellum, and always contained a nominal but symbolic amount. This explains the generations of children taken to Tyersall Park every New Year who would blurt out in disappointment, “Kan ni nah—only two dollars inside!”

*2 If your parents were divorced and remarried or you came from one of those families where Grandpa had taken multiple wives and sired multiple families, you were totally fucked.

*3 Cantonese for “Don’t put a curse of death,” meaning “Don’t sabotage the situation.”

*4 A female ghost with long, rat-nest-like hair that lives in a banana tree. From Indonesian and Malay mythology, pontianaks are said to be spirits of women who died while giving birth. A pontianak kills her victims by digging into their stomachs with her sharp dirty fingernails and devouring their organs. Yum.

*5 “Congratulations and wishing you prosperity,” the proper greeting in Cantonese. Naughtier children prefer to say “Happy New Year—I pull your ear!” or “Gong hei fat choy—ang pow tae lai!” (Now gimme that ang pow!)

*6 Cantonese for “This irritates me to death!”

*7 Jun Takahashi, the creative force behind the cult fashion label Undercover. The prototype of Astrid’s dress was quite possibly the inspiration for his autumn–winter 2014 collection.

6

MORTON STREET

NEW YORK

FEBRUARY 10, 2013 18:38 PM PST

Text messages to Nicholas Young’s private cell phone (the one his parents don’t have the number for)

ASTRID: Yr mum found out about the wedding. Happy New Year.

NICK: WTF! How did she find out?

ASTRID: Not sure who leaked. She confronted me @Ah Ma’s. Things got ugly.

NICK: Really?!?

ASTRID: Yes. She went nuts and made a scene when I wouldn’t give her any details.