China Rich Girlfriend (8 page)

“Jacqueline—you don't need me to tell you that you don't look a day over forty,” Nick said.

“Thirty-nine, Nicky.”

“Okay, thirty-nine.” Nick laughed. He had to admit that even as she sat across from him in the bright sunlight with only a touch of makeup on, she was still one of the most stunningly attractive women he had ever known.

“There's that handsome smile of yours! For a while I was afraid you
were beginning to get surly. Don't ever get surly, Nicky, it's most unbecoming. My son, Teddy, always has the most surly, supercilious look about him—I should never have sent him to Eton.”

“I don't think Eton had anything to do with it,” Nick offered.

“You're probably right. He has those snobby recessive Lim genes from my late husband's side. Now, you should know that all of Singapore was talking about you over the Chinese New Year.”

“I highly doubt that
all
of Singapore was talking about me, Jacqueline. I haven't lived there in over a decade and I really don't know many people.”

“You know what I mean. I hope you don't mind my being frank. I've always been very fond of you, so I don't want to see you do the wrong thing.”

“And what's the ‘wrong thing'?”

“Marrying Rachel Chu.”

Nick rolled his eyes in frustration. “I really don't want to be drawn into a discussion about this with you. It would be a waste of your time.”

Ignoring him, Jacqueline continued. “I saw your Ah Ma last week. She summoned me to visit her, and we had tea on her veranda. She is very distressed by your estrangement from her, but at this point she is still willing to forgive you.”

“Forgive
me
? Oh, that's rich.”

“I see you are still reluctant to see her side of things.”

“I'm not reluctant at all. I can't even
begin
to see her side of things. I don't know why my grandmother can't be happy for me, why she cannot trust me to make a decision about who I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

“It has nothing to do with trust.”

“Then what is it about?”

“It's a matter of respect, Nicky. Your Ah Ma cares for you dearly, and she has always had your best interests at heart. She knows what is best for you, and only asks that you respect her wishes.”

“I used to respect my grandmother, but I'm sorry, I can't respect her snobbery. I'm not going to roll over and marry into one of the five families in Asia deemed acceptable by her.”

Jacqueline sighed and shook her head slowly. “There is so much you don't know about your grandmother, about your own family.”

“Well, why don't you tell me? Let's not keep it a mystery.”

“Listen, there is only so much I can say. But I will tell you this: If you
choose to go through with your wedding next month, I can assure you that your grandmother will take necessary measures.”

“Meaning what? Meaning she's going to cut me out of her will? I thought she did that already,” Nick said mockingly.

“Forgive me if I sound patronizing, but the arrogance of youth has led you astray. I don't think you truly realize what it means for the gates of Tyersall Park to be closed to you forever.”

Nick laughed. “Jacqueline, you sound like some character out of a Trollope novel!”

“Laugh all you want, but you're being rather foolhardy about this. There is this sense of entitlement that was bred into you, and you are letting that affect your decisions. Do you really know what it means to be cut off from your fortune?”

“I'm doing just fine.”

Jacqueline gave Nick a patronizing smile. “I'm not talking about the twenty or thirty million your grandfather left you. That's just
teet toh lui
.
^*3
You can't even buy a proper house in Singapore with that these days. I'm talking about your real legacy. Tyersall Park. Are you prepared to lose it?”

“Tyersall Park is going to be left to my father, and one day it will pass to me,” Nick said matter-of-factly.

“Let me give you some news—your father long ago gave up any hope of inheriting Tyersall Park.”

“That's just idle gossip.”

“No it's not, Nicky. It's a fact, and aside from your grandmother's lawyers and your great-uncle Alfred, I am probably the only person on the planet who knows this.”

Nicky shook his head in disbelief.

Jacqueline sighed. “You think you know everything. Do you know I was with your grandmother the day your father announced that he was going to immigrate to Australia? No, because you were away at boarding school during that time. Your grandmother was furious at your father, and then she was brokenhearted. Imagine, a woman of her generation, a widow, having to suffer the indignity of this. I remember she cried to me, ‘What's the use of having this house and all these things, when my only son is abandoning me?' That's when she decided to change her will and leave the house to you. She skipped over your father and put all her hopes in you.”

Nick couldn't mask his look of surprise. For years, his busybody relatives had engaged in covert speculation over the contents of his grandmother's will, but this was one twist he hadn't imagined.

“Of course, your recent actions have sabotaged those plans. I have it on good authority that your grandmother is preparing to change her will again. How will you feel if Tyersall Park goes to one of your cousins?”

“If Astrid gets it, I'd be happy for her.”

“You know how your grandmother is—she will want the house to go to one of the boys. It won't go to any of the Leongs, because she knows that they already have too many properties, but it could very well go to one of your Thai cousins. Or one of the Chengs. How would you feel if Eddie Cheng became lord and master of Tyersall Park?”

Nick looked at Jacqueline in alarm.

Jacqueline paused for a moment, carefully considering what she wanted to say next. “Do you know anything about my family, Nicky?”

“What do you mean? I know your grandfather was Ling Yin Chao.”

“In the 1900s my grandfather was the richest man in Southeast Asia, revered by all. His house on Mount Sophia was bigger than Tyersall Park, and I was born in that house. I grew up much like your family did, in a kind of luxury that hardly exists today.”

“Wait a minute…you're not going to tell me that your family lost all their money?”

“Of course not. But my grandfather had too many damn wives and too many children, so the fortune's been dispersed. Collectively, we'd still rank high on the Forbes list, but not when there are so many of us feeding from the pot these days. But look at me,
I'm a girl
. My grandfather was an old-fashioned man from Amoy, and for people like him, girls weren't supposed to inherit—they were just married off. Before he died, he put all his holdings in a labyrinthine family trust, stipulating that only males born with the Ling surname could benefit. I was expected to marry well, and I did, but then my husband died much too young, and I was left with two small children and some
teet toh lui
. Do you know how it feels to live among some of the richest people in the world and feel like you have nothing compared to them? Take it from me, Nicky—you have no idea what it's like to come from everything and then lose it all.”

“You're not exactly hurting.” Nick gestured at their surroundings.

“True, I've managed to maintain certain standards, but it has not happened with the sort of ease that you might imagine.”

“I appreciate your story, but the difference between you and me is that I don't require all that much. I don't need a yacht or a plane or a huge estate. I spent half my life in houses that were far too big, and it's such a relief to live the way I do in New York. I'm perfectly content with my life just the way it is.”

“I think you misunderstand me. How can I put it to you more clearly?” Jacqueline pursed her lips for a moment and considered her finely painted manicure, as if she wasn't quite sure what she wanted to say. “You know, I grew up thinking that I was born into a certain world. My whole identity was wrapped up in the notion that I belonged to this family—that I was a
Ling
. But the moment I got married, I found out that I was not considered a Ling anymore. Not in the truest sense. All my brothers, half brothers, and idiot male cousins would inherit hundreds of millions each from the Ling Trust, but I wouldn't be entitled to a cent. But then I realized it wasn't really the loss of money that was affecting me the most. It was the loss of the privilege. To suddenly realize that you are inconsequential even within your own family. If you go through with this marriage, I promise you will feel a seismic shift. You can act self-righteous in front of me right now, but believe me, when it is all taken away, you won't know what hit you. Doors that have been open to you all your life will suddenly be closed, because in everyone's eyes, you are nothing without Tyersall Park. And I would hate to see that happen. You are the rightful heir. How much is that land worth today? Sixty of the most prime acres in the heart of Singapore…it's like owning Central Park in New York. I can't even begin to fathom the value. If Rachel only knew what you were giving up.”

“Well, I'm certainly not interested in having any of it if I can't share my life with her,” Nick said adamantly.

“Who said you couldn't be with Rachel? Why don't you live with her as you have been? Just don't get married now. Don't rub it in your grandma's face. Go home and make peace with her. She is in her nineties, how many years does she have left? After she goes, you can do anything you want.”

Nick considered her words in silence. There was a gentle knock on the door, and a steward bearing a tray of coffee and desserts entered.

“Thank you, Sven. Now try some of this chocolate cake. I think you'll find it to be quite interesting.”

Nick took a bite, recognizing immediately that it tasted exactly like
the airy yet rich chocolate chiffon cake made by the cook at his grandmother's house. “How did you manage to pry the recipe out of Ah Ching?” he asked in surprise.

“I didn't. I smuggled a slice into my handbag when I had lunch with your grandmother last week and had it flown straight to Marius, the genius chef we have aboard. He spent three days doing his own forensics on the cake, and after about twenty attempts, we got it just right, don't you think?”

“It's perfect.”

“Now, how would you feel if you could never have this chocolate cake again?”

“I'll just have to be invited back to your yacht.”

“This isn't my yacht, Nicky. None of this is mine. And don't think I'm not reminded of this every day of my life.”

SINGAPORE, MARCH 1, 2013

The man with the machine gun tapped on the tinted glass of Carol Tai's Bentley Arnage. “Lower your window, please,” he said gruffly.

As the window came down, the man peered in, carefully scrutinizing Carol and Eleanor Young in the backseats.

“Your invitations, please,” he said, extending a Kevlar-gloved hand. Carol handed over the engraved metal cards.

“Please have your handbags open and ready for inspection when you get to the entrance,” the man instructed, gesturing for Carol's chauffeur to drive on. They passed through the security roadblock, only to find themselves bumper-to-bumper with other fancy sedans trying to make their way toward the house with the red lacquered front door on Belmont Road.

“
Aiyah
, if I knew it was going to be this
lay chay
,
^*1
I wouldn't have come,” Carol complained.

“I told you it wouldn't be worth the headache. It never used to be like this,” Eleanor said, glaring at the traffic jam and thinking back to the earlier days of Mrs. Singh's jewelry tea party. Gayatri Singh, the youngest daughter of a maharaja, possessed one of Singapore's legendary jewelry collections, said to rival that of Mrs. Lee Yong Chien or Shang Su Yi. Every year, she would return from her annual trip to India with another stash of heirlooms spirited away from her increasingly senile mother, and
starting in the early 1960s, she had begun inviting her dearest friends—women hailing from Singapore's elite families—to come over for tea to “celebrate” her latest baubles.

“Back when Mrs. Singh was running the show, it was such a relaxed affair. It was just a bunch of nice ladies in beautiful saris sitting around the living room. Everyone took turns fondling Mrs. Singh's jewels while gossiping and gobbling down Indian sweets,” Eleanor recalled.

Carol scrutinized the long queue trying to get through the front door. “This looks anything but relaxed.
Alamak
, who are all these women all dressed up like they are going to a cocktail party?”

“It's all the
new people
. The whoest-who of Singapore society that no one has ever heard of—mainly Chindos,”
^*2
Eleanor sniffed.

Ever since Mrs. Singh lost interest in counting her carats and began spending more time in India studying Vedic scriptures, her daughter-in-law Sarita—a former minor Bollywood actress—had taken over the affair, and the homey ladies' tea party evolved into a high-profile charity exhibition to raise money for whatever happened to be Sarita's cause du jour. The event was breathlessly chronicled by all the glossy magazines, and anyone who could pay the exorbitant entry fee had the privilege of traipsing through the Singhs' elegant modernist bungalow and gawking at the jewelry, which nowadays consisted of some specially themed exhibition.

This year's show was devoted to the works of the acclaimed Norwegian silversmith Tone Vigeland, and as Lorena Lim, Nadine Shaw, and Daisy Foo peered into the glass vitrines in what was now the “gallery,” converted from the former table-tennis room, Nadine could not help but register her dismay. “
Alamak
, who wants to see all this Scandinavian
gow sai
^*3
? I thought we would get to see some of Mrs. Singh's jewels.”

“Keep your voice down! That
ang moh
^*4
over there is the curator. Apparently she is some hotshot from the Austin Cooper Design Museum in New York,” Lorena warned.

“
Aiyah
, I don't care if she's Anderson Cooper! Who wants to pay five hundred dollars a ticket to see jewelry made of rusty nails? I came to see rubies the size of rambutans!”

“Nadine has a point. This is such a waste of money, even though we got these free tickets from my banker at OCBC,” Daisy said.

Just then, Eleanor entered the gallery, squinting at the bright lights. She immediately put her sunglasses back on.

“Eleanor!” Lorena said in surprise. “I didn't know you were coming to this!”

“I wasn't planning to, but Carol was given tickets by her banker at UOB, and she convinced me to come. She needs cheering up.”

“Where is she?”

“In the toilet, of course. You know her weak bladder.”

“Well, there's nothing here that will cheer her up, unless she wants to see jewelry that will give her tetanus,” Daisy reported.

“I told Carol this would be a waste of time! Sarita Singh only wants to impress her arty-farty international friends these days. Three years ago she invited me, Felicity, and Astrid, and it was all this Victorian mourning jewelry. Nothing but black jet and brooches made from the hair of dead people.
Hak sei yen!
^*5
Only Astrid could appreciate it.”

“Let me tell you what I'm appreciating right now—your new Birkin bag! I never thought you'd be caught dead with one of these. Didn't you once say that only tacky Mainlanders carried such bags?” Nadine asked.

“Funny you should say that—this was a gift from Bao Shaoyen.”

“
Wah, ah nee ho miah!
^*6
I told you the Baos were loaded,” Daisy said.

“Well, you were right—the Baos are loaded beyond belief. My God, the way I've seen them spend in just the few months they've been here! Nadine, if you thought your Francesca was a spendthrift, you should see how that Carlton spends. I have never seen a boy more obsessed with cars in my life! At first his mother swore she would never let him set foot in another sports car, but every time I go over there, there's some exotic new car in their sky garage. Apparently he's been buying cars and shipping them back to China. He claims he'll make a fat profit reselling them to his friends.”

“Well, it sounds like Carlton has made quite a recovery!” Lorena said.

“Yes, he hardly even needs his crutches anymore. Oh, in case you were still thinking of him for your Tiffany, you should stop. Apparently
he's already got a girlfriend. A fashion model or something like that—she lives in Shanghai but flies down to see him every weekend.”

“Carlton is so handsome and charming, of course there must be a long line of girls trying to catch him,” Nadine said.

“He may be all that, but I can see now why Shaoyen loses sleep over her son. She told me that the past few months have been the most relaxed time she's had in years. She's afraid that once Carlton is fully back on his feet again and they return to China, he will be impossible to manage.”

Lowering her voice, Lorena asked, “Speaking of China, did you meet with Mr. Wong?”

“Of course.
Aiyah
, that Mr. Wong has put on so much weight—I think the private investigating business must be
zheen ho seng lee
.”
^*7

“So, everything is good? Did you read the dossier?”

“Did I ever. You won't
believe
what I found out about the Baos,” Eleanor said with a little smile.

“What? What?” Lorena asked, leaning in closer.

Just then, Carol entered the gallery and made a beeline for Lorena and Eleanor. “
Alamak
, there was such a long line for the bathroom! How's the show?”

Daisy took her by the arm and said, “I think there were more interesting things to see in the
jambun
^*8
than in this show. Come, let's see if the food is any better. I hope they have some spicy samosas.”

As the ladies made their way down the passageway toward the dining room, an Indian woman with snow-white hair wearing a simple bone-colored sari emerged from one of the rooms and caught sight of them. “Eleanor Young, is that you looking so mysterious behind those sunglasses?” the woman asked in an elegant, lilting voice.

Eleanor took off her sunglasses. “Ah, Mrs. Singh! I didn't realize you were back in town.”

“Yes, yes. I'm just hiding from the crowd. Tell me, how is Su Yi? I missed her
Chap Goh Meh
^*9
party the other night.”

“She's very well.”

“Good, good. I've been meaning to pay her a visit since I got back
from Cooch Behar, but I've been so jet-lagged this time. And how is Nicky? Did he return for New Year's?”

“Not this year, no,” Eleanor said, forcing a smile.

Mrs. Singh gave her a knowing look. “Well, I'm sure he'll be back next year.”

“Yes of course,” Eleanor said, as she proceeded to introduce the ladies. Mrs. Singh nodded graciously at everyone. “Tell me, are you all enjoying my daughter-in-law's exhibition?”

“It's very
interesting
,” Daisy offered.

“To be honest, I much preferred when you used to show your own jewelry,” Eleanor ventured.

“Come with me,” Mrs. Singh said with a mischievous smile. She led the women up a back staircase and down another passageway lined with Mughal-era portraits of various Indian royals in antique gilt frames. Soon they came upon an ornate doorway inlaid with turquoise and mother-of-pearl, guarded by a pair of Indian police officers. “Don't tell Sarita, but I decided to have a little party of my own,” she said, flinging the door open.

Inside was Mrs. Singh's private sitting room, an airy space opening onto a luxuriant veranda lined with lime trees. A butler was handing out steaming cups of chai, while a sitar player plucked a soft, entrancing melody in a corner. Several ladies in iridescent saris sprawled on the deep purple divans, nibbling on sweet
ladoos
, while others sat cross-legged on the Kashmir silk carpet, admiring the rows upon rows of jewels blindingly arrayed on large forest green velvet trays in the middle of the floor. It felt like being at a pajama party inside the vault of Harry Winston.

Daisy's and Nadine's jaws dropped, and even Lorena—whose family owned an international chain of jewelers—couldn't help but be impressed by the sheer variety and magnificence of the pieces. There were easily hundreds of millions' worth of jewels just lying on the ground in front of them.

Mrs. Singh breezed into the room, a swish of chiffon trailing behind her. “Come in, ladies. Don't be shy, and please feel free to try anything on.”

“Are you serious?” Nadine asked, her pulse beginning to race.

“Yes, yes. When it comes to jewels, I ascribe to the Elizabeth Taylor school of thought—jewels should be worn and enjoyed, not stared at from behind a glass case.”

Before Mrs. Singh could even finish her sentence, Nadine had instinctively grabbed one of the biggest pieces on display—a necklace comprised of twelve strands of ridiculously oversize pearls and diamonds. “Oh my GOD-ness, it's all one necklace!”

“Yes, it's such a silly thing. Believe it or not, Garrard made it for my grandfather for Queen Victoria's Jubilee, and since he weighed over three hundred pounds, it draped nicely across his entire belly. But how can you even wear such a thing in public these days?” Mrs. Singh said as she struggled to fasten the enormous baroque pearl clasp behind Nadine's neck.

“Now that's what I'm talking about!” Nadine said excitedly, a little bubble of spit forming at the corner of her mouth as she gazed at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Her entire torso was smothered in diamonds and pearls.

“You'll get a backache if you have it on for more than fifteen minutes,” Mrs. Singh warned.

“Oh, it's worth it! It's worth it!” Nadine panted as she began to try on a cuff bracelet made entirely of cabochon rubies.

“Now this I like,” Daisy said, picking out an exquisite brooch in the shape of a peacock feather inlaid with lapis, emeralds, and sapphires that perfectly matched a peacock's natural hues.

Mrs. Singh smiled. “That was my dear mama's. Cartier designed it for her in the early 1920s. I remember she used to wear it in her hair!”

Two maids entered bearing bowls of freshly made
gulab jamun
,
^*10
and the ladies began enjoying the sinfully sweet treat in one of the corners of the room. Carol finished her dessert in two bites and looked into her silver dessert bowl rather wistfully. “I thought all this would make me happier, but I probably should have just gone to church instead.”

“
Aiyah
, what's the matter, Carol?” Lorena asked.

“Take a guess,
lor
. It's that son of mine. Ever since
Dato'
died, I've hardly seen or heard from Bernard. It's as if I don't exist anymore. I've only met my granddaughter twice since she was born—first time at Gleneagles Hospital, and then when they came back for
Dato
's funeral. Now Bernard doesn't even return my calls. The maids tell me that he is still in Macau, but that wife of his is flying off somewhere else every day. Her baby is not even three and she is neglecting her already! Every week I open the paper and see some news about her at this party or that party,
or buying something new. Did you hear about that painting she bought for almost two hundred million?”

Daisy looked at her sympathetically. “
Aiyah
, Carol, I've learned over the years to stop listening to all the stories about my children's spending.
Wah mai chup.
^*11
At a certain point, you have to let them make their own choices. After all, they can afford it.”

“But that's precisely my worry—they
can't
afford it. Where are they getting all this money from?”

“Didn't Bernard gain control of all the businesses when
Dato'
died?” Nadine asked, suddenly more interested in Carol's story than in the gold-and-cognac diamond sautoir she was holding up to the sunlight.

“Of course not. Do you think my husband would be foolish enough to put Bernard in control while I'm still alive? He knows that boy would sell my own house from under me and leave me on the roadside if he could! After Bernard ran off with Kitty to Las Vegas to get married,
Dato'
was furious. He forbid anyone in the family office from giving Bernard access to any money and totally locked up his trust fund. He cannot touch the principal—only the annual income.”