“See that enormous rambutan tree? Colin and I tried to build a tree house in it. We spent three days working in secret, but then Ah Ma found out and was furious. She didn’t want anything to ruin her precious rambutan fruit and forced us to dismantle it. Colin was so pissed off, he decided to pluck down as many of the rambutans as he could.”

Rachel laughed. “You guys got into quite a bit of trouble, didn’t you?”

“Yep—we were always getting into scrapes. I remember there was one kampong* nearby we would sneak into to steal baby chickens.”

“Little rascals! Where was the adult supervision?”

“What adult supervision?”

The car pulled up to the porte cochere, and several servants emerged from a side door to remove their luggage from the trunk. The Indian butler came down the front steps to greet them.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Young, Miss Chu. Mrs. Young is expecting you for tea. She’s in the star-fruit grove.”

“Thanks, Sanjit, we’ll head there now,” Nick said. He guided Rachel past the red flagstone terrace and down a graceful allée, where white acanthus and colorful bursts of hibiscus mingled with lavish thickets of Egyptian papyrus.

“These gardens are even more glorious in the daytime,” Rachel remarked, running her fingers along the row of papyrus stalks swaying gently in the breeze. Enormous dragonflies buzzed about, their wings sparkling in the sunlight.

“Remind me to show you the lily pond. We have these enormous lily pads there—Victoria amazonica, the largest in the world. You can practically sunbathe on them!”

As they approached the grove, a most curious sight awaited Rachel: Nick’s ninety-something-year-old grandmother stood at the top of a wooden ladder that leaned precariously against the trunk of a tall star-fruit tree, painstakingly fussing over some plastic bags. Two gardeners stood at the foot of the rickety ladder, holding it steady, while a Gurkha and the two Thai lady’s maids looked on placidly.

“Sweet Jesus, she’s going to fall off that ladder and break her neck!” Rachel said in alarm.

“This is Ah Ma’s thing. There’s no stopping her,” Nick said with a grin.

“But what exactly is she doing?”

“She inspects every single one of the young star fruits and wraps each of them in their own plastic bags. The humidity helps them to ripen and protects them from birds.”

“Why doesn’t she let one of the gardeners do it?”

“She loves doing it herself—she does this with her guavas too.”

Rachel stared up at Nick’s grandmother, immaculately dressed in a crisply pleated yellow gardening smock, and marveled at her dexterity. Su Yi looked down, noticing that she had a new audience, and said in Mandarin, “One minute—I just have two more to do.”

When Nick’s grandmother had safely descended the ladder (much to Rachel’s relief), the group proceeded down another pathway that led to a formal French walled garden where a profusion of African blue lilies were planted amid perfectly manicured boxwood hedges. In the middle of the garden stood a jewellike conservatory that appeared to have been transported straight out of the English countryside.

“This is where Ah Ma cultivates her prizewinning orchid hybrids,” Nick informed Rachel.

“Wow,” was all Rachel could say as she entered the greenhouse. Hundreds of orchid plants hung on different levels throughout the space, their subtle sweetness permeating the air. Rachel had never seen this many varieties—from intricate spider orchids and vividly colored vandas to the magnificent cattleyas and almost indecently suggestive slipper orchids. Tucked in the middle of all this was a round table that appeared to have been carved out of a single block of blue malachite. Its base consisted of four majestically fierce griffins facing in different directions, each poised to take flight.

As they made themselves comfortable on the cushioned wrought-iron chairs, a trio of servers appeared as if on cue, bearing an enormous five-tiered silver tray laden with delectable nyonya kuehs, finger sandwiches, gemlike pâte de fruits, and fluffy golden-brown scones. A tea cart was rolled toward them by one of the Thai lady’s maids, and Rachel felt like she was hallucinating as she watched the maiden delicately pouring freshly steeped tea from a teapot intricately carved with multicolored dragons. She had never seen a more sumptuous tea service in her life.

“Here are my grandmother’s famous scones—dig in,” Nick said gleefully, licking his lips.

The scones were still warm as Rachel broke one apart and slathered it with a generous helping of clotted cream, just as she’d learned from Nick. She was about to put some of the strawberry jam onto the scone when Su Yi said in Mandarin, “You should try it with some of the lemon curd. My cook makes it fresh every day.” Rachel didn’t feel like she was in a position to defy her hostess, so she scooped on some lemon curd and took her first bite. It was pure heaven—the buttery lightness of the pastry combined with the decadent cream and the smooth hint of sweet lemon made for a perfect alchemy of flavors.

Rachel sighed audibly. “You were right, Nick, this is the best scone on the planet.”

Nick grinned triumphantly.

“Mrs. Young, I am still discovering the history of Singapore. Was afternoon tea always a custom in your family?” Rachel asked.

“Well, I am not a native Singaporean. I spent my childhood in Peking, and we of course did not follow the British custom there. It was only when my family moved here that we picked it up, these colonial habits. It was something we first did for our British guests because they didn’t much appreciate Chinese cooking. Then, when I married Nick’s grandfather, who had spent many years abroad in England, he insisted on a proper afternoon tea with all the trimmings. And of course the children loved it. I suppose that’s how I got used to it,” Su Yi replied in her slow, deliberate way.

It was only then Rachel realized that Nick’s grandmother had not touched any of the scones or finger sandwiches. Instead, she ate only a piece of nyonya kueh with her tea.

“Tell me, is it true that you are a professor of economics?” Su Yi asked.

“It is,” Rachel replied.

“It is good that you had the opportunity to learn such things in America. My father was a businessman, but he never wanted me to learn about financial matters. He always said that within a hundred years, China would become the most powerful nation the world has ever seen. And that is something I always repeated to my children and grandchildren. Isn’t that right, Nicky?”

“Yes, Ah Ma. That’s why you made me learn my Mandarin,” Nick confirmed. He could already see where this conversation was headed.

“Well I was right in doing that, wasn’t I? I am fortunate enough to see my father’s foresight come true in my lifetime. Rachel, did you watch the Beijing Olympics opening ceremony?”

“I did.”

“Did you see how magnificent it was? No one in the world can doubt China’s might after the Olympics.”

“No, they really can’t,” Rachel replied.

“The future is in Asia. Nick’s place is here, don’t you think?”

Nick knew Rachel was headed straight into an ambush, and interrupted her before she could answer. “I have always said that I would return to Asia, Ah Ma. But right now I am still gaining valuable experience in New York.”