Standing at a distance, Alistair whispered to Peik Lin, “I guess we didn’t need to hire any professional mourners.”*2
“Well, your brother can certainly do this professionally! The kids are doing a great job too.”
“I’m sure they were forced to rehearse a million times,” Alistair said.
Eddie suddenly turned around and glared at his other son. “Constantine, my firstborn! Come! Give your great-grandma a kiss!”
“No fucking way, Dad! I don’t care how much you say you’ll pay me, I’m not going to kiss a dead body!”
Eddie’s nostrils flared in rage, but since everyone was staring at them he simply gave his son a big you’re-gonna-get-your-ass-wupped-later smile and sprang up from the ground. He smoothed out his Mandarin-collared linen suit and announced, “Everyone, I have a surprise in honor of Ah Ma. Please follow me.”
He led the group of relatives out to the walled rose garden that bordered the east wing of the house. “Kaspar, we’re ready!” he shouted. Suddenly, a bank of floodlights illuminated the darkened garden, and everyone gasped. In front of them was a three-story structure made out of wood and paper. It was an intricately constructed scale model of Tyersall Park, with every pillar, eave, and awning painstakingly replicated down to the last detail.
“Kaspar von Morgenlatte, my personal decorator, had a whole team of artisans working on this for weeks,” Eddie proudly announced, bowing to the crowd that had by now gathered in front of the house replica.
“I am not a decoratur! I am an interieur arkitect und art konsultant
!” declared a tall, exceedingly thin man with slicked-back white-blond hair, dressed in a white turtleneck sweater and high-waisted white linen trousers. “Ladies und gentlemen, pleazzze pay attention! The interieur of this maknificent schloss opens up…”
Four equally blond assistants scurried out from the shadows. They unfastened a few hinges along the side columns, allowing the entire front façade of the house to open and reveal interior rooms that had been decorated to excruciating detail, but unfortunately did not replicate the real interiors of Tyersall Park.
“The walls are twenty-four-carat gold leaf, the fabrics are all Pierre Frey, the crystal chandeliers are Swarovski, und the furnishings are hand-krafted by the same people that did the set designs for Wes Anderson’s Graaand Hotel Budapeshhhhhhhht,” Kaspar continued.
“Good God, what an insult to Wes. This looks more like a Ukrainian bordello,” Oliver whispered to Rachel. “Thank God it’s about to be set on fire.”
Rachel laughed. “I know you don’t care for it, but don’t you think that’s a bit extreme?”
“Rachel—Oliver’s not joking,” Nick cut in. “This is a paper tomb offering. People burn these at funerals as gifts for the deceased to ‘enjoy’ in the afterlife. It’s an ancient ritual.”
“It’s more of a…working-class custom,” Oliver continued. “The families buy paper objects and accessories that represent aspirational things the deceased couldn’t afford in this life. Paper mansions, Ferraris, iPads, Gucci bags.*3 But the paper mansions are usually quite small—like dollhouses. Eddie, of course, has to do everything to the extreme,” Oliver noted as Eddie walked around the three-story house excitedly showing off all the objects he had commissioned.
“Check out her closet—I had some little dresses made in her favorite lotus silk. And I even had them make exact replicas of Hermès Birkin bags, so Ah Ma will have a good selection of handbags to use in heaven!”
The family members stared at the structure in stunned silence. Finally, Eddie’s mother said, “Mummy would never use an Hermès handbag. She never carried a handbag—her lady’s maids held everything for her.”
Eddie glared at his mother angrily. “Ugh! You just don’t get it, do you? I know she wouldn’t normally carry an Hermès. I’m trying to give Ah Ma the best of everything, that’s all.”
“It’s very impressive, Eddie. Mummy would have been touched,” Catherine said, trying to be diplomatic.
Victoria suddenly piped up. “No, no, this is all wrong. It’s incredibly tasteless, and what’s more, it’s extremely un-Christian.”
“Auntie Victoria, this is a Chinese tradition—it has nothing to do with religion,” Eddie argued.
Victoria shook her head in fury. “I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense! We Christians do not require worldly things in the kingdom of heaven! Remove this monstrosity at once!”
“Do you know how much I spent on this mansion? This cost me over a quarter of a million dollars! We are burning it, and we are burning it now!” Eddie shouted back as he gave Kaspar the signal.
“Wolfgang! Juergen! Helmut! Schatzi! Entzündet das Feuer!” Kaspar commanded.
The Aryan minions dashed around the structure, dousing it with kerosene, and Eddie theatrically flicked a long matchstick and held it high for all to see.
“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare burn it on this property! It’s satanic, I tell you!” Victoria screamed, as she ran up to Eddie and began trying to wrestle the burning matchstick out of his hand. Eddie lobbed the match onto the structure and it ignited instantly, the force of the flames billowing outward suddenly and almost singeing both their heads.
As the enormous replica of Tyersall Park began to be consumed by the fire, all the guests streamed out of the house and surrounded it like a bonfire, taking out their phones and snapping photos. Eddie stared in triumphant silence at the burning house, while Victoria sobbed on the shoulder of the president of China. Cassian, Jake, Augustine, and Kalliste ran around the structure gleefully.
“It’s actually rather beautiful, isn’t it?” Rachel said as Nick came up behind her, wrapping her in his arms as they stared at the fire together.
“It is. I have to agree with Eddie this time—I think Ah Ma would have enjoyed this. And why shouldn’t she have a Birkin bag in heaven?”