“Yes, it’s very nice. You know, you can see my apartment from here,” Eleanor said.

“Really? Which one is it?” Shaoyen said with interest, going up to the window. They had been in Singapore for three months now, and she found it a bit curious that Eleanor had never once invited them over.

“It’s the one on top of that hill over there. Do you see the tower that looks like it’s built on top of that old mansion?”

“Yes, yes!”

“Which floor are you on?” Carlton asked.

“I have the penthouse.”

“Wicked! We tried to get the penthouse here but it was already taken,” Carlton bragged.

“This is big enough, don’t you think? Don’t you have the whole floor?”

“Yes. It’s three thousand five hundred square feet, with four bedrooms.”

“My goodness, you must be paying an arm and a leg in rental fees.”

“Well, we decided to buy the place rather than pay rent on it,” Carlton said with a satisfied grin.

“Oh,” Eleanor said, surprised.

“Yes, and now that we’ve moved in, we like it so much that we’ve decided to buy the floors above and below and create a triplex—”

“No, no, we’re just thinking about it,” Shaoyen cut in quickly.

“What do you mean, Mother? We signed the contract two days ago! There’s no backing out now!”

Shaoyen pursed her lips tightly before catching herself and forcing a smile. She was obviously uncomfortable that her son had said so much.

Eleanor tried to put her at ease. “Shaoyen, I think you’ve made a very wise decision. Prices in this district will always go up. Singapore properties are becoming even more sought after than New York, London, or Hong Kong.”

“That’s exactly what I told Mother,” Carlton said.

Shaoyen said nothing, but reached over to pour a cup of tea for Eleanor.

Eleanor smiled as she took the tea, while the adding machine in her brain began to do its work. In such a prime location, this flat must easily have cost the Baos $15 million—probably more with the sky garage—and now it turns out they bought two more floors. With Eddie Cheng as their private banker, Eleanor assumed the Baos had to be loaded, but apparently she had underestimated how loaded.

Daisy Foo had been right all along. Shortly after meeting Shaoyen in London, Daisy had theorized, “I bet these Baos are richer than God. You have no idea how wealthy all these Mainlanders have become—it seems like yesterday Peter and Annabel Lee were the first Mainland billionaires, and now there are hundreds. My son tells me that China will have more billionaires than America within five years.” Mr. Wong, the trusty private investigator Lorena had connected her to, had been crisscrossing China for the last few months trying to dig up every piece of dirt on the Baos, and now Eleanor was even more anxious to read his dossier.

After Carlton and Shaoyen had made a respectable dent in the New Year desserts, Shaoyen handed a large red-and-gold shopping bag to Eleanor. “Here, just a small token for you to celebrate the holiday. Xin nian kuai le.” *4

“Aiyah, no need lah! What’s this?” Eleanor said, pulling out an instantly recognizable orange-and-brown-trimmed box from the shopping bag. Lifting the cover, she saw that the box contained a Hermès Birkin bag.

“Do you like it? I know you tend to wear neutral colors, so I got you the White Himalayan Nile Crocodile,” Shaoyen explained.

Eleanor knew that this handbag, dyed in the chocolate, beige, and white tones of a Himalayan cat, had to cost at least a hundred thousand dollars. “Alamak! This is far too lavish! I can’t accept this!”

“It’s just a small token, really,” Shaoyen said demurely.

“I appreciate the gesture, but I cannot accept it. I know how much these things cost. You should be saving this for yourself.”

“No, no, too late,” Shaoyen said as she unfastened the buckle and lifted up the front flap of the handbag. Embossed on the leather were Eleanor’s initials—E.Y.

Eleanor sighed. “This is too much. I must pay you for this—”

“No, no. Do not insult us. This is nothing compared to all the kindness you have shown us over the past few months.”

You don’t know what I’m really up to, Eleanor thought. She turned to Carlton and said, “Help me out here. This is outrageous!”

“It’s really no big deal,” Carlton said.

“It IS a big deal! You know I can’t possibly accept such a generous gift from your mother.”

Carlton scoffed. “Come, Mrs. Young. Let me show you something.” He wheeled himself out of the sitting room, beckoning Eleanor to follow. At the end of the hallway, he opened the door to one of the guest bedrooms and turned on the light. Eleanor peered into the room. It was sparsely furnished but almost impossible to walk into.

Covering the entire floor were Hermès bags and matching boxes, and displayed on top of each box was a Birkin or Kelly handbag—in every color of the rainbow, in every possible variation of exotic leather. Along every wall were custom-built cabinets that displayed rows and rows of Hermès handbags, all illuminated by soft accent lights. There were more than a hundred handbags in the room, and the calculator in Eleanor’s brain started going into overdrive.

“This is my mother’s gift room. She’s giving an Hermès to every single doctor, nurse, and physical therapist at Camden Medical Centre who’s helped me over the past few months.”

Eleanor stared at all the handbags crammed into the room, her mouth agape.

“My mother has one weakness. And now you know what it is,” Carlton said with a laugh.

Shaoyen proceeded to show Eleanor some of the most unique Hermès bags—customized just for her. Privately, Eleanor felt it was a gigantic waste of money. Think how many Noble Group or CapitaLand shares she could buy instead! But publicly, she made a show of oohing and aahing over the bags.

Eleanor thanked them again for the lavish gift and prepared to depart. Carlton rolled over to the entrance foyer and said, “Take the elevator this time, Mrs. Young. I’ll send your car down by itself, and it will be waiting for you when you reach the lobby.”

“Oh thank you so much, Carlton. I was thinking I might have a panic attack if I had to go in that car elevator again!”

Shaoyen and Carlton waved goodbye at the elevator vestibule. The doors closed, but instead of going down immediately, there was an unusual pause. On the other side of the door, Eleanor heard Carlton let out a sudden yell.

“Ow! Ooow! That one really hurt, Mother! What have I done?”

“BAICHI! *5 How dare you tell Eleanor Young so much of our business? Have you learned nothing?” Shaoyen screamed in Mandarin.

Then the elevator began its rapid descent, and Eleanor could hear no more.

* * *

*1 Oriental Garments, better known as OG, is a homegrown department store chain established in 1962. Offering value-for-money apparel, accessories, and household items, it’s the go-to place for old-money Singaporean ladies of a certain generation who claim that they only wear Hanro underwear but secretly buy all their discount Triumph bras and panties there.

*2 Mandarin for “thank you.”

*3 Cantonese for “to introduce.”

*4 “Happy New Year” in Mandarin.

*5 Mandarin for “Idiot!”

4

RIDOUT ROAD

SINGAPORE

From: Astrid Teo<[email protected]>

Date: February 9, 2013 at 10:42 PM

To: Charlie Wu<[email protected]>

Subject: HNY!

Hey you,

Just wanted to wish you a Happy New Year! I got home from the annual yee sang* dinner with my in-laws, and I suddenly remembered the year I came over to your house for the dish, and one of the ingredients was 24-carat gold-leaf shavings. I remember telling my mum about it, knowing it would scandalize her. (“Goodness gracious, those Wus have run out of ways to spend their money, so now they are literally eating it!” was what she had to say.)

Apologies for not writing in a while but these past few months have been rather insane. I’ve become a working girl of sorts…I’m now involved with the Fine Arts Museum, helping behind the scenes with some strategic next-phase acquisitions as the museum expands. (Please keep all this to yourself. They wanted to officially make me a trustee or name a wing for me but I declined both. No desire to see my name carved into a wall—I actually think it’s kind of morbid.)