tory about his fight with Richie Yang was true.
Shaoyen was less restrained. She got up from the table and rushed toward her son, putting her hands on his face. “Look at you! You look like a raccoon that went for lip fillers! My God, after all you went through with your reconstructive surgeries, how could you let this happen?”
“I’m fine, Mother. It’s nothing,” Carlton said gruffly, trying to shrug her off.
“Mrs. Bao, I brought you some presents from Paris. I know how much you love the pâtés de fruits at Hédiard.” Colette gestured to the hamper, hoping to distract them.
“Hiyah, had I known you were coming, I would have arranged dinner at someplace special. This was just a last-minute family dinner,” Shaoyen said, hoping her emphasis on the word family would make the girl feel especially unwelcome.
“Oh, this is one of my family’s favorite restaurants too! I know the menu very well,” Colette chirped, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room.
“Why don’t you do the ordering then? Be sure to get all your favorite dishes,” Shaoyen replied solicitously.
“No, no, I’ll just keep it simple.” Colette turned to the waiter and smiled. “Let’s start with the deep-fried crab claws stuffed with minced shrimp, followed by the live Venus clams steamed in XO sauce, the barbecued roast pork with honey sauce, the sautéed scallops with Italian white truffle oil, and the stewed chicken with diced abalone and salted fish in clay pot. Oh, and of course we must have the roasted suckling pig—make sure it’s a fat one—and the steamed sliced garoupa with mushroom in lotus leaf, the stir-fried diced vegetables with walnut served in crispy nest, and of course the braised e-fu noodles with crab roe and crabmeat in soup. And for dessert, the double-boiled bird’s nest with rock sugar.”
Standing behind Colette’s chair, Roxanne leaned toward the waiter’s ear. “Please tell the chef it’s for Miss Bing—he knows she likes the bird’s nest dessert spiked with nine drops of amaretto di Saronno and sprinkled with shavings of twenty-four-carat gold.”
Gaoliang exchanged looks with his wife. This Colette Bing was just too much. Glaring at Carlton, Shaoyen quipped, “Now I know why our banker called me up last week. They noticed some highly elevated spending patterns on your accounts. Looks like you two had quite a time in Paris, didn’t you?”
“Ooh, it was pure heaven,” Colette said with a sigh.
“We had a lovely time,” Carlton said a little uncomfortably.
“And that racing competition with Richie Yang, was that lovely too?” Shaoyen asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“What do you mean? I didn’t race him,” Carlton replied carefully.
“But you were going to, weren’t you?”
“It never happened, Mother,” Carlton protested.
Gaoliang sighed heavily. “Son, what really disappoints me is your complete lack of judgment. I can’t believe you would even consider doing something like that after your accident! And to make things worse, this callous bet you made over the race—I never imagined you would have the audacity to make a bet with Richie Yang for ten million dollars.”
Colette spoke up in Carlton’s defense. “Mr. and Mrs. Bao, I don’t mean to intrude, but you should know that Richie was the one who came up with the challenge and the bet. Richie was the one provoking Carlton every chance he could for the past few months. He did all this to try to impress me. If anyone should be blamed for everything that happened in Paris, it should be me. You should be proud of your son—Carlton did the right thing. He was the bigger man and walked away from that race. Can you imagine if Richie had won the race? I mean, I know ten million dollars is not that much money, but still, what a loss of face it would have been for you Baos!”
Gaoliang and Shaoyen looked at Colette, too stupefied to say anything. Just then, Colette’s phone began to buzz. “Haha—speak of the devil, it’s Richie. He still won’t give up and has been calling me a dozen times a day! Should I turn on the speakerphone and bring him into the conversation? I’m sure he would confirm everything.”
The Baos shook their heads, mortified by the suggestion.
“Then I will just hit Ignore,” Colette said lightly, placing her phone on the empty chair next to her.
The dinner dishes began to arrive, and the four of them started to eat in an uncomfortable silence. When the roasted suckling pig was finally brought in on a silver platter with much fanfare, Carlton decided it was time to speak up. “Father, Mother, I take full responsibility for what happened in Paris. It was foolish of me to get dragged into the mud with Richie. Yes, I was prepared to race him, but thankfully Rachel talked some sense into me.”
Shaoyen flinched at the mention of Rachel, but Carlton continued talking. “Rachel knows all about London. She understood what an emotional state I was in, and she still managed to convince me to walk away from the race. And I’m awfully grateful she did, because otherwise I might not even be here telling you this right now.”
“She knows everything about your accident?” Shaoyen asked Carlton, trying to make it sound casual. She even knows about the girl who died?
“Yes, everything,” Carlton said, looking his mother straight in the eye.
Shaoyen said nothing, but her glare spoke volumes. Stupid boy stupid boy stupid boy!
As if reading her mind, Carlton responded, “We can trust her, Mother. Whether you like it or not, Rachel is going to be part of our lives. She’s visiting Hangzhou now with a friend from Singapore, but once she returns to Shanghai, I really think you need to invite her over. This freeze-out has gone on for far too long. Once you meet her, I know you’ll come to like her as well.”
Shaoyen stared down at the uneaten crisp of golden pork skin on her plate, saying nothing, so Carlton tried another tactic. “If you don’t believe me, ask Colette. All your friends were charmed by Rachel in Paris, weren’t they? Stephanie Shi, Adele Deng, Tiffany Yap.”
Colette nodded diplomatically. “Yes, she was a big hit with all my friends. Mrs. Bao, Rachel’s nothing like what you’re expecting—she’s American, but in the best possible way. I think that in time, Shanghai and Beijing society would come to accept her, especially if she carries a different handbag. You should give her one of your Hermès bags, Mrs. Bao. She will be like the daughter you never had.”
Shaoyen sat stone-faced, while Gaoliang addressed his son. “I’m glad Rachel was able to help you, but it still doesn’t excuse your behavior. The profligate spending in Paris, the public fights, the drag racing, it’s all an indication to me that you are not ready to—”