Stone, Katherine (8 page)

"I'm lost," he confessed. "It's obvious I should
know what a feng shui man is, but I don't. Would you enlighten me?"

"Of course. I'd be happy to." Maylene's words were
gracious, but a frown touched her face. "The Chinese believe nature is a
living creature with whom man should attempt to live in harmony."

Sam understood her frown. Feng shui involved ancient Chinese
beliefs, the exotic mysticism of the Orient, and Maylene was afraid he'd think
it foolish. Quietly, truthfully, he said, "I guess I believe that,
too."

"You may not believe the natural cosmos is populated by gods
and ghosts and spirits and dragons."

"Maybe I should. I'm sure I should. Tell me more."

"Okay. Well, let's see. Feng shui literally means 'wind and
water.' Its purpose is to place people in the most harmonious relationship
possible with the spiritual world. Such harmony, in turn, brings good luck. The
feng shui man offers advice on how to deflect evil spirits and woo benevolent
ones."

"What kind of advice?"

"Depending on how confident he is, all sorts of
things-wedding dates, business ventures, what horses to bet on al Happy Valley.
Most of his suggestions are aimed at putting things in proper physical
alignment with roaming spirits.
A
view of water, for example, is good
feng shui. If you don't have a view, you need to create one. That's why there
are many aquariums in Hong Kong."

Sam smiled, interested, encouraging. "What else?"

"Well, because spirits can only move in straight lines, they
can be kept out of buildings by installing the doors at a slant, or by putting
in revolving ones."

"So feng shui is important in construction."

"Very."

"I'm listening."

Maylene's whirlwind architectural tour of Hong Kong— based on the
decrees of feng shui—started with the Regent, the harborside hotel located less
than a quarter of a mile from where they stood. Since both the Regent and the
Jade Palace were on Kowloon Peninsula, she began by explaining how the
peninsula got its name.

"In the late thirteenth century, the last emperor of the Sung
Dynasty fled here in an attempt to escape the Mongols. When he saw the
peninsula's eight hills, each of which he believed to be the home of a dragon,
he wanted to name his own new home 'Eight Dragons' in their honor. He was just
a boy, and had forgotten that emperors, too, were dragons. Once reminded, he
changed the name to Kowloon, 'Nine Dragons.' Dragons are revered creatures in
Chinese mythology, and are generally regarded as good. Still, one tries not to
provoke them, and great efforts are expended to please them. Which brings us to
the Regent. The feng shui consultant strongly advised that the Kowloon dragons
not be forgotten. That's why the lobby's glass, so the dragons can find their
way to the harbor to bathe."

The windows of Maylene Kwan's Jade Palace were to be tinted
jade—except for the lobby atrium. There, the glass would be clear. Now Sam knew
why. "Did Golden Eight make a similar suggestion for the Palace?"

"No. The clear glass was on the original sketches. I have no
problem with dragons wandering through our lobby, do you?"

Sam smiled. "None at all. They're more than welcome. Does
Golden Eight have concerns about the hotel?"

"No. He thinks the alignments are very propitious. I'm sure
James just wants you to meet him because he'll be dropping by from time to time
to make sure everything feels right."

Having finished with the special considerations of building in
Kowloon, Maylene gestured toward the skyscrapers of Hong Kong Island. Beginning
with the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank, she asked, "What do you think of
Hong Kong's heavily fortified twenty-first-century space station?"

"I like it. Was it a feng shui nightmare?"

"Not really. The suspended escalators had to be installed
slightly askew. But that was easy. The main problem was Stephen and Stitt, the
two bronze lions. They'd guarded the previous incarnation of the bank, and when
it was time for them to be moved to their new location, there had to be two
cranes, lifting them simultaneously, to avoid jealousy in either beast."

"I saw them yesterday. They seem quite content in their new
home."

"And the bank itself has enjoyed good fortune."

"What about the Bank of China?" Sam asked. Designed by
I. M. Pei, it had been, until recently, Asia's tallest structure.

"The bank is flourishing, but they had to pull out all stops
to ensure its good luck. The segmental increments are supposed to resemble
bamboo shoots, propelling themselves ever higher with each successive growth.
But there was so much concern about the angles that on August eighth, 1988, the
luckiest day of the century, an elaborate topping-off ceremony was held."

"Here's a wild guess. There's something lucky about the
number eight."

"In Cantonese, 'eight' is a homonym for 'prosperity.'"

"Hence Golden Eight."

"A nickname given to him by satisfied customers."

"He has lots of customers?"

"All the good feng shui men do. Courting luck is a favorite
Chinese pastime. Feng shui men are consulted by the most humble amah to the
most powerful taipan. Well," she amended, "not
the
most
powerful taipan." She pointed to Victoria Peak. At its very summit stood a
pristine white building, its windows gleaming copper in the afternoon sun.
"That's Peak Castle, home of Sir Geoffrey Lloyd-Ashton, owner of Hong
Kong's largest trading company. Sir Geoffrey apparently regards feng shui as
pure nonsense. Every feng shui expert in the territory warned against building
a home that would blind the mountain's dragon."

"But Sir Geoffrey didn't care."

"No. And he supposedly rather likes the fact that Hong Kong's
unofficial name for his castle is Dragon's Eyes."

"Has his defiance of
feng shui
brought him bad
luck?"

"Not yet. By all accounts, his life is quite perfect, and so,
according to James, is the interior of the castle."

"Is James a frequent guest?"

"I think so. Lady Lloyd-Ashton and James's wife—"

"I know about James's wife, Maylene. About her death. She
knew Lady Lloyd-Ashton?"

"They were girlhood friends in England. James speaks very
fondly of Eve. I'm sure he could arrange a look inside the castle if you wanted
him to."

"I'd like to see it. How about you? You've probably seen
photographs."

"Peak Castle's never appeared in
Architectural Digest
and
never will. Dragon's Eyes is for Sir Geoffrey's eyes only— and those of his
invited guests."

"That makes me want to see it all the more—and makes me feel
a lot less likely to ask James to arrange a tour." Sam smiled, and she
smiled, and after a moment he asked, "Speaking of photography, do you
happen to know when Allison Whitaker's scheduled to arrive?"

Of course I know. Maylene was stunned—and suddenly fearful.
Somehow holding her smile, she replied, "Sunday night."

"Do you know if James plans to meet her plane?"

"We both plan to. You know her, Sam?"

"No. But I know her father. I spoke with him shortly before
leaving Texas and he mentioned Allison would be here."

Maylene nodded, as if that information was of only passing
interest. Then, as casually as possible, she turned to the ever-interesting
activity of the harbor. She stared, unseeing, at the drama of boats and waves,
as her thoughts screamed.
You know my father?
What did he tell you about
Hong Kong? Did he ask you to protect the daughter he loves from the dark
secrets—and the dark-souled daughter—lurking here? Or does Garrett Whitaker
have any memory of Hong Kong at all?

Even in profile, Sam could see that her eyes had iced over,
denying him access. He'd been counting on the expressive green to guide his
voyage to her heart.

But he shouldn't have been surprised that she wouldn't be so
easily read. When her heart was in greatest jeopardy—and greatest need—she'd
close herself off. Just as he did.

Sam was a builder of hotels, an expert sculptor of steel and
stone. The towering structures were all he created. He didn't build
relationships, not enduring ones. And very little building had been required
for the liaisons he'd wanted based on sex.

Except when the medium was steel and stone, what Sam mostly did
was destroy.

Now, with this complicated woman, he wanted to build. No
blueprints existed for love in his life—and as Sam saw the ice that was proof
of Maylene's own deep pain, he wondered if he'd end up destroying them both.

***

Maylene left precipitously, citing another appointment. After she
was gone, Sam searched the dusty ground until he found two perfect high-heel
prints. Measuring them carefully, he returned to the trailer and made a call to
San Antonio.

Forty-five minutes later, when the fax machine on his desk came to
life, Sam assumed it would be a follow-up to his request. But the fax wasn't
from Texas. In her clear, no-nonsense handwriting, she'd written:

Cowboy,

No sooner said than done! You will get your look into the Dragon's
Eyes. According to James, we've all been invited to a dinner party at Peak
Castle a week from Saturday.

J

Sam was pleased at the prospect of spending an evening exploring
the controversial landmark. But that pleasure paled in comparison to how he
felt about the way Maylene had signed the fax.

She'd held back a little, not writing out all four letters of his
endearment. But she was accepting it, wanting it—and the master builder who
knew so little about building relationships nonetheless saw the
J
for
what it was—the small yet monumental cornerstone of what could be the most
important creation of his life.

***

Later that night, at eleven, Lady Lloyd-Ashton—Eve— watched from a
window in Peak Castle as the taillights of her husband's Bentley disappeared
down Mount Austin Road. Once the lights were gone, she turned away.

Too quickly, she realized as the twisting motion triggered stabs
of pain. Eve paused, breath held, until the aftershocks subsided. Then she
resumed her walk toward the telephone, removing a piece of paper from her robe
pocket as she did.

The robe was a Pearl Moon design. In its pocket was the home
number of its talented designer, her friend Juliana Kwan.

Eve had never before called Juliana at home. And her many calls to
the Pearl Moon boutique had been brief, impersonal conversations to schedule
fittings. But because Eve had been worried about her friend and had personal
news to share, she dialed the unfamiliar number in Happy Valley.

Juliana answered on the first ring, her voice at once apprehensive
and hopeful.

"It's just me, Juliana. You haven't heard from her?"

"Oh, Eve, hello. No, I haven't heard."

"She's only been back in Hong Kong for five days. She's
undoubtedly preoccupied with the hotel. She'll call."

"She hasn't for nine years."

"No, but she's returned to Hong Kong, she's
chosen
to,
and you were so sure she never would. That's hopeful, isn't it?"

"I've permitted myself to believe it is," Juliana
admitted. "I've even let myself believe it might mean she's forgiven me...
us."

"You could call her, Juliana. You could tell her everything
again. I know you think she remembers what you told her, but maybe she
doesn't."

A wistful smile touched Juliana's lips. How she wished it was
simply a failure to communicate, a mother-daughter misunderstanding that could
be resolved by speaking words overlooked years before. But there were no
missing words. On the day she'd been forced to tell her thirteen-year-old
daughter that her father hadn't died after all, Juliana had told Maylene every
single truth. And she'd repeated those truths so many times over the next five
years.

Maylene had heard her words. Indeed, Juliana's terribly bright
daughter memorized them, playing them back verbatim, with her own
interpretation.

That's not
love,
Mother! He
used
you and
abandoned
me. Don't you get it? Don't blame it on fate—or some romanticized notion of
star-crossed destiny! He
chose
not to be with us. He
betrayed
us.
And all these years,
you've
betrayed
me
by pretending he was
dead—and telling me how wonderful he was. He
wasn't
wonderful, or
loving, or honorable. He was a sailor interested in sex. Period. And I'm his
bastard child! You try living in this place with green eyes and white skin and
features that aren't pure. People
stare,
Mother. They taunt and they
tease. But you know how I've survived their contempt? By deciding I was
different from the other half-breeds of Wanchai. But I'm not, am I? Because
everything you've ever told me was a
lie.