“Yes, don’t you know the best foot doctors in the world are in Paris? They have to deal with all those women killing their feet trying to walk on cobblestone streets in their Roger Viviers. We want to go to Paris tonight. You should come with us and I’ll get you to the top specialist there.”

Mrs. Bing stared at her daughter with a mixture of shock and delight. This was the first time Colette had taken an interest in any of her ailments. “Can Nainai*5 and Auntie Pan Di come too? She’s always wanted to visit Paris, and Nainai needs to do something about her bunions.”

“Of course. We have plenty of room! Invite anyone you want.”

Mrs. Bing gave Stephanie a thoughtful look. “Why don’t you invite your mother too? I know she’s been so sad ever since your brother got kicked out of Yale.”

“What a fantastic idea, Mrs. Bing! I’m sure she’d love to come along, especially if you’re going,” Stephanie replied.

Colette turned to Roxanne as soon as her mother had left the room. “You need to google ‘foot doctor Paris.’?”

“Already done,” Roxanne replied. “And Trenta can be fully staffed and ready in three hours.”

Colette turned to her friends. “Why don’t we all meet at Hongqiao Airport at midnight?”

“Everybody get out your Goyards! We’re going to Paris!” Perrineum cheered.

* * *

*1 St. Germain elderflower liqueur, gin, and white Lillet mixed with grapefruit juice create this classic effervescent aperitif. Chin-chin!

*2 A Mandarin term for the children of top government officials.

*3 Mandarin for “bullshit!”

*4 A Mandarin term that means “second generation of the rich.” Generally a derogatory term for the sons and daughters of the Chinese nouveaux riches who profited from the early years of China’s reform-era boom.

*5 Mandarin for “Grandmother.”

14

TRENTA

SHANGHAI TO PARIS ON THE BINGS’ PRIVATE JET*1

The security guard at the Hongqiao International Airport Private Aviation entrance handed Carlton, Rachel, and Nick their passports and waved them through. As Carlton’s SUV approached a Gulfstream VI surrounded by arriving cars, Rachel commented, “I have a bit of a phobia of private jets, but I gotta admit, Colette’s got a beautiful plane.”

“That’s a nice plane, but it’s not Colette’s. That one is,” Carlton said, steering the car to the right. Parked in the distance on the tarmac was an alpine white Boeing 747 jumbo jet with one undulating scarlet stripe painted along its fuselage like a giant calligraphy brushstroke. “This Boeing 747-81 VIP was a fortieth-birthday present for Colette’s mother.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Rachel said, staring at the humongous plane glistening under floodlights.

Nick chuckled. “Rachel, I don’t know how you can still be surprised. Bigger is always better for the Bings, isn’t it?”

“They spend so much time crisscrossing the globe, it makes sense for them. And especially for businessmen like Jack Bing, time is money. With the long delays at the airports in Shanghai and Beijing these days, it’s an advantage to have your own plane—you can just pay to jump the runway queue,” Carlton explained.

“Isn’t that precisely what’s causing the flight delays at Chinese airports? All the private jets getting to skip ahead of commercial airliners?” Nick asked.

“No comment,” Carlton said with a wink as he pulled up to the red carpet that extended from the airplane’s staircase onto the tarmac. The ground crew immediately bustled around the car, opening doors and removing the luggage while Carlton handed off his car to the valet. Along the length of the carpet, fifteen flight crew members stood at attention like troops ready for inspection, attired in the same crisp black James Perse uniforms seen at Colette’s house.

“I feel like Michelle Obama about to board Air Force One,” Rachel whispered to Nick as they walked along the plush red carpet.

Overhearing them, Carlton quipped, “Wait till you get on board. This plane makes Air Force One look like a sardine tin.”

At the top of the steps, they entered the cabin door and were immediately greeted by the chief purser. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Bao. Good to see you again.”

“Hi, Fernando.”

Next to Fernando stood a flight attendant who bowed deeply before asking Rachel and Nick, “Your shoe sizes, please?”

“Er…I’m a size six, and he’s a ten and a half,” Rachel said, wondering why she asked.

Moments later, the flight attendant returned with velvet drawstring bags for everyone. “A gift from Mrs. Bing,” she announced. Rachel looked inside and saw a pair of Bottega Veneta leather slippers.

“Colette’s mum prefers for everyone to wear these on board,” Carlton explained, slipping off his loafers. “Come, let me give you a quick tour before everyone else gets here.” He led them down a hallway paneled in a lacquered gray maple wood and tried to open a set of double doors. “Bugger, I guess it’s locked. This is a staircase that leads downstairs to the clinic. There’s an operating theater with a full life-support system, and there’s always a doctor on board.”

“Let me guess…Mrs. Bing’s idea?” Nick asked.

“Yes, she’s always worrying that she’ll fall ill on the plane on the way to visit her doctors. Let’s try going this way.”

They followed Carlton along another passage and down a wider set of steps. “Here’s the main cabin, or the Grand Lounge, as they call it.”

Rachel’s jaw dropped. She knew, on an intellectual level, that she was still on an airplane. But what she was seeing was something that couldn’t possibly exist on a plane. They were standing in a vast, semicircular room filled with sleek Balinese teak sofas, consoles that looked like antique silver chests, and silk-covered lamps in the shape of lotus blossoms. But the focal point of the space was a three-story rock wall carved with ancient-looking Buddhas. Growing out of the wall were live ferns and other exotic botanicals, while off to the side, a spiral glass-and-stone staircase wound its way to an upper floor.

“Mrs. Bing wanted the Grand Lounge to feel like an ancient Javanese temple,” Carlton explained.

“It’s just like Borobudur,” Nick said in a hushed whisper as he touched the moss-covered stone.

“You got it. I think she fell in love with some resort there many years ago and wanted it replicated on her plane. The wall is an actual temple fa?ade from an archaeological dig. They had to smuggle it out of Indonesia, from what I’m told.”

“I guess you can do whatever you want with a 747 if you don’t need to fit four hundred seats,” Nick surmised.

“Yeah, and having five thousand square feet of space to play with also helps. These sofas, by the way, are upholstered in Russian reindeer leather. And up those stairs, there’s a karaoke lounge, a screening room, a gym, and ten bedroom suites.”

“Sweet Jesus! Nick, come over here right now!” Rachel said in a panicked voice from across the room.

Nick rushed over to her. “Are you okay?”

Rachel stood dead in her tracks at the edge of what appeared to be a lap pool, shaking her head in disbelief. “Look—it’s a koi pond.”

“God, you scared me. For a moment I thought something was wrong,” Nick said.

“You don’t think anything’s wrong? THERE’S A FRIGGING KOI POND IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS PLANE, NICK!”

Carlton came over, highly amused by his sister’s reaction. “These are some of Mrs. Bing’s prized koi. You see that fat white one over there with the big red spot right in the middle of its back? Some Japanese tosser who was a guest on the plane once offered the Bings $250,000 for that fish. It reminded him of the Japanese flag. I do wonder if these poor koi ever get jet-lagged.”

Just then, Colette entered the main cabin swathed in a hooded angora poncho, trailed by a large entourage that included her mother, grandmother, Roxanne, a few of the girls from earlier, and a retinue of maids. “I can’t believe those idiots let you on board! I wanted to give Nick and Rachel the tour myself,” Colette said with a little pout.

“We haven’t seen anything except this room,” Rachel said meekly.

“Okay, great! Knowing your love of bathrooms, I wanted to show you the hydromassage room myself.” Lowering her voice, she said to Rachel, “I wanted to warn you ahead of time. My parents bought and designed this plane while I was away at Regent’s. So I can’t be held responsible for the decor.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Colette. This plane is unfathomably gorgeous,” Rachel assured her.

Colette looked genuinely relieved. “Here, come meet my grandmother. Nainai, these are my friends from America, Rachel and Nick,” Colette announced to a plump septuagenarian with a standard-issue Chine se-grandma perm.

The old lady smiled tiredly at them, baring a couple of gold teeth. She looked as if she had been hastily yanked out of bed, shoved into a St. John knit jacket two sizes too small, and hustled aboard the plane.