“Speaking of universities, does everyone know that Penny Shi’s daughter, who was the class valedictorian at Los Gatos, didn’t get into any of the Ivy League schools that she applied to?” Auntie Jin chirped, trying to change the subject. It was so dreadful to bring up Rachel’s father in front of Kerry, Rachel’s mother, who had already suffered enough over the past three decades as a single parent.
Cousin Henry, ignoring his auntie Jin’s remark, chimed in, volunteering, “You know, my firm works with this amazing lawyer based out of Shanghai. Her father is very high up in the government and she’s super-well-connected. Do you want me to see if she can help out?”
Kerry, who had been silent until now, suddenly slammed her chopsticks onto the table and said, “Hiyah, this is all such a waste of time. It’s no use chasing ghosts!”
Rachel looked at her mother for a moment. Then she got up from the table and walked out of the room without a word.
Samantha spoke up, her voice cracking a little with emotion. “He’s not a ghost, Auntie Kerry. He’s her father, and she has a right to have some sort of relationship with him. I can’t even imagine what my life would be like without my dad. Can you blame Rachel for wanting to find him?”
* * *
*1 A nickname for “fresh off the boat” Asian immigrants, used mainly by second-, third-, or fourth-generation Asian Americans to denote their superiority.
*2 Joel Arthur Rosenthal, aka JAR of Paris, whose precious handmade jewels are among the most coveted in the world. If Belinda had a more discerning eye, she might have realized that Rachel’s ring was a flawless oval-cut diamond held in place by ribbons of white gold almost as thin as hairs, interwoven with tiny blue sapphires. (Nick would not tell Rachel how much he paid for it.)
*3 Dumplings filled with meat and piping hot broth that—due to their increased popularity in recent years on the international food scene—have been scalding uninitiated mouths around the world.
3
SCOTTS ROAD
SINGAPORE, FEBRUARY 9, 2013
“When you get here, just drive straight up to the garage,” Bao Shaoyen told Eleanor over the phone. Eleanor did as she was instructed, pulling up to the security booth and explaining that she was paying an after-dinner visit to the Baos, who had recently rented a unit in this brand-new condominium off Scotts Road.
“Ah yes, Mrs. Young. Please keep to the left and follow the arrows,” the attendant in the dark gray uniform said. Eleanor drove down the ramp into a spotless underground parking garage that seemed curiously devoid of cars. They must be one of the first tenants to move in, she thought, veering to the left and approaching a white metallic garage door with a sign overhead that read UNIT 01 MECHANISED CAR PARK (FOR RESIDENTS ONLY). The door rose quickly and a green signal light began to flash. As she pulled forward into the brightly lit chamber, a digital sign in front of her flashed STOP. PARKING POSITION OK. How strange…am I just supposed to park right here?
Suddenly the ground began to move. Eleanor gasped and grabbed hold of the steering wheel reflexively. Only after a few seconds did she realize she had driven onto a rotating platform that was slowly pivoting her car ninety degrees. When the car stopped turning, the entire floor began to rise. For heaven’s sake, it’s a drive-in elevator! To her right was a wall of windows, and as the elevator continued to ascend, the full glory of Singapore’s nighttime skyline unfurled below her.
This high-tech apartment must be Carlton’s idea, Eleanor thought. Since meeting Bao Shaoyen in London last September, she had come to know the family well. Eleanor and her friends had lent their support to Shaoyen and her husband, Gaoliang, during those tense few weeks when Carlton was in and out of surgeries at St. Mary’s Paddington, and as soon as he was out of danger, it was Eleanor who suggested that he complete his recuperation in Singapore rather than Beijing.
“The climate and air quality will be much better for him, and we have some of the best physical therapists in the world. I’m related to all the top doctors in Singapore, and I’ll make sure Carlton gets the best treatment,” she had urged, and the Baos thankfully concurred. Of course, Eleanor did not reveal the true motive behind her altruism—having them close by would allow her to find out everything she could about the family.
Eleanor knew plenty of overindulged sons, but never had she met one with a mother so wrapped around his finger. Shaoyen had flown three maids down from Beijing to assist in Carlton’s care but still insisted on doing practically everything for Carlton herself. And since arriving in Singapore last November, they had inexplicably moved three times. Daisy Foo had done what she considered to be a special favor for the Baos, and using her family connections had secured them a Valley Wing suite at the Shangri-La at a very discounted rate—but Carlton had for some reason been dissatisfied with one of Singapore’s top hotels. The Baos soon moved into a furnished apartment at Hilltops, the luxurious high-rise on Leonie Hill, and a month later they switched again to an even swankier pad off Grange Road. And now here they were in this building with the ridiculous car elevator.
Eleanor remembered reading about this place in the property section of Business Times—it was the first luxury condo in Asia to boast biometrically controlled car elevators and “en suite sky garages” in every apartment. Only expats on could-give-a-damn expense accounts or Mainlanders with too much money would want to live in a place like this. Carlton, obviously in the latter category, had gotten exactly what he wanted.
Fifty levels up, the ground finally came to a halt and Eleanor found herself peering into a sprawling living room. Shaoyen stood on the other side of a glass wall waving at her, with Carlton—in a wheelchair—by her side.
“Welcome, welcome!” Shaoyen said excitedly as Eleanor entered the apartment.
“Alamak, I got the fright of my life! I thought I was getting a vertigo attack when the floor started to turn!”
“Sorry, Mrs. Young, it was my idea—I thought you’d enjoy the novelty of the car lift,” Carlton explained.
Shaoyen gave Eleanor a look of resignation. “I hope you see now why we had to move in here. The handicap van comes right up to this floor, and Carlton can just wheel himself right into the apartment with no fuss.”
“Yes, very convenient,” Eleanor said, not believing for one moment that handicap access played a role in the selection of this apartment. She turned around to look at the gimmicky garage again, but noticed that the wall of glass had turned an opaque shade of white. “Wah, how clever! I thought you’d have to sit in your living room and stare at your car all day. It would be so unfortunate if you drove an old Subaru.”
“Well, you can stare at your car if you want to,” Carlton said, touching the screen on his iPad mini. The wall instantly became transparent again, but this time, special spotlights and mood lighting in the garage made her twelve-year-old Jaguar look like it was a museum showpiece. Eleanor was secretly relieved that her driver, Ahmad, had polished the car the day before.
“Imagine how gorgeous a chrome-colored Lamborghini Aven
tador would look sitting in there,” Carlton said, shooting his mother a hopeful look.
“You are not getting behind the wheel of another sports car,” Shaoyen said in a huff.
“We’ll see about that,” Carlton muttered under his breath, shooting Eleanor a conspiratorial look. Eleanor smiled back at him, thinking how utterly transformed he seemed. For the first few weeks after he had been moved to Singapore for his rehabilitation, Carlton seemed totally catatonic, barely making eye contact or saying a word to her. But today, the young man in the wheelchair was talking, even joking with her. Maybe they had put him on Zoloft or something.