CULTURE AND CONVERSATION

Your chief handicap to social success will always be the fact that you did not attend the right kindergarten with any of the right crowd. This eliminates you from participating in seventy percent of the conversations that occur during dinner parties at the best houses. You do not know the gossip that goes back to these people’s childhoods. And this is the secret: They are all still completely obsessed with what happened when they were five. Who was fat or thin? Who wet her pants during choir practice? Who’s father shut down Ocean Park for the day so that he could have a huge birthday party? Who spilled red bean soup all over whose party dress when they were six years old and still has not been forgiven? Twenty percent of the other conversations at parties consist of complaining about Mainlanders, so by default you will not be able to join in that discussion. Another five percent is earmarked for complaining about the Chief Executive, so in order to distinguish yourself in the remaining meager five percent conversational window, you must either have one hell of a good stock tip or learn to become a scintillating conversationalist. Beauty fades, but wit will keep you on the invitation lists to all the most exclusive parties. To that end, you will embark on a reading program that I have designed specifically for you. You will also attend one cultural event per week. This can include but is not restricted to plays, opera, classical music concerts, ballet, modern dance, performance art, literary festivals, poetry readings, museum exhibitions, foreign-language or independent films, and art openings. (Hollywood movies, Cirque du Soleil, and Cantopop concerts do not count as culture.)

READING LIST

I noticed many magazines but not a single book in your entire house, with the exception of a Chinese-language translation of Sheryl Sandberg’s Lean In found in one of the maid’s bedrooms. You will therefore complete one book per fortnight, with the exception of Trollope, where you will be allowed three weeks per book. As you read these books, you will hopefully come to understand and appreciate why I am making you read them. The books are to be read in the following order:

Snobs by Julian Fellowes

The Piano Teacher by Janice Y. K. Lee People Like Us by Dominick Dunne

The Power of Style by Annette Tapert and Diana Edkins (this is out of print; I will lend you my copy) Pride and Avarice by Nicholas Coleridge The Soong Dynasty by Sterling Seagrave Freedom by Jonathan Franzen D. V. by Diana Vreeland

A Princess Remembers: The Memoirs of the Maharani of Jaipur by Gayatri Devi Jane Austen—complete works beginning with Pride and Prejudice

Edith Wharton—The Custom of the Country, The Age of Innocence, The Buccaneers, The House of Mirth (must be read in strict order—you will understand why when you finish the last one) Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh Anthony Trollope—all the books in the Palliser series, beginning with Can You Forgive Her?

I shall do an assessment when you have completed these books to see whether you are ready to attempt some light Proust.

FINAL NOTE

There’s no easy way to put this: We need to talk about Bernard. None of our goals will be effective if people are under the impression that your husband is somehow incapacitated, in a coma, or has become your sex slave in a dungeon. (That is the latest rumor going around.) We need to orchestrate a very public appearance with your husband and daughter very soon. Let’s discuss the options tomorrow at the Mandarin over tea and scones.

* * *

*1 A direct descendant of Confucius who was also rather fabulously known as the “Holy Duke of Yen.”

*2 In Asia, the new generation of ruling class are using the term “helper” to refer to the people their parents call “maids” and their grandparents call “servants.”

*3 An open-air roadside food stall. The dai pai dong where Corinna stages all her paparazzi shots is a particularly picturesque one located on St. Francis Yard, opposite the Club Monaco men’s concept shop.

2

RACHEL AND NICK

SHANGHAI, JUNE 2013

“And this,” the general manager said with a flourish, “is your living room.” Rachel and Nick walked through the foyer and into a room with double-height ceilings and a grand art deco–style fireplace. One of the associates in the general manager’s entourage pushed a button, and the sheer curtains in front of the tall picture window parted silently to reveal a breathtaking view of the Shanghai skyline.

“No wonder you call this the Majestic suite,” Nick said. Another associate popped open a bottle of Deutz champagne and began pouring the bubbly into a pair of tall flutes. To Rachel, the sprawling hotel suite felt like a decadent box of chocolates—from the black marble bathroom with its oval soaking tub to the ridiculously plush pillows on the bed, every corner was just waiting to be savored.

“Our yacht is at your disposal, and I would highly recommend a late-afternoon cruise so that you can see the city transition from day to night.”

“We’ll definitely keep that in mind,” Nick said, eyeing the plush sofa longingly. Could these lovely people please just leave so I can kick off my shoes and crash for a bit?

“Please let us know if there is anything else we can do to make your stay more enjoyable,” the manager said, placing his hand on his chest and making an almost imperceptible bow before discreetly exiting the room.

Nick plopped down on the sofa lengthwise, grateful to be able to stretch out after their fifteen-hour flight from New York. “Well this is a surprise.”

“I know! Can you believe this place? I’m pretty sure the bathroom alone is larger than our whole apartment! I thought our hotel in Paris was something else, but this is on a whole other level,” Rachel gushed as she returned to the living room.

They were supposed to be staying with her father for the first couple of weeks of their vacation in China, but upon landing at Pudong International Airport, they were greeted at the gate by a man in a gray three-piece suit who had a note from Bao Gaoliang. Rachel took the piece of paper out of her purse and read it again. Written in Mandarin script in bold black ink, the note translated to:

Dear Rachel and Nick,

I trust you had a good flight. My apologies that I am unable to greet you at the airport myself, but I had to be in Hong Kong at the last minute and will only be returning later today. Since you are now officially on your honeymoon, I felt it would be much more fitting for you to spend your first days at the Peninsula Hotel as my guest. It will certainly be far more romantic than my house. Mr. Tin will speed your way through passport control and the Peninsula has sent a car to take you to the hotel. Have a relaxing afternoon, and I look forward to introducing you to your family at a celebratory dinner tonight. I will contact you with more details before the evening, but let’s plan on meeting at 7:00 p.m.

Yours truly,

Bao Gaoliang

Nick noticed Rachel’s face light up as she reread the letter, her eyes skimming over the words “your family” for the umpteenth time. Taking another sip of the champagne, he said, “It was so cool of your father to arrange all this for us. Very thoughtful.”

“Wasn’t it? It’s all a bit over the top—from this ginormous suite to the Rolls that picked us up at the airport. I felt a little embarrassed to be riding in it, didn’t you?”

“Nah, the new Phantoms are perfectly discreet. Colin’s grandmother had a vintage Silver Cloud from the 1950s that looked like it came straight from Buckingham Palace. Now that was embarrassing to ride in.”

“Well, I’m still not used to all this, but I guess this is how the Baos live.”

As if reading her mind, Nick asked, “How are you feeling about tonight?”

“I’m excited to meet everyone.”

Nick remembered the hints his mother had made about the Baos back in Santa Barbara, and he had shared all the details of that conversation with Rachel a few days after their wedding. At that time, Rachel had said, “I’m happy that my father and his family have done well, but it really makes no difference to me whether they are rich or poor.”

“I just wanted you to know what I know. It’s part of my new ‘full disclosure policy,’?” Nick had said with a smile.

“Ha—thanks! Well, I’m a lot more comfortable navigating around the Richie Rich crowd, thanks to you. I’ve already gone through a baptism of fire with your family. Don’t you think I’m ready for anything now?”