by Kevin Kwan
Astrid reached out and put her hand over Isabel’s. “Don’t say that. You’ve done such a great job raising them. You’re their mother, and I’m not going to try to be any sort of substitute mother. I only hope that in time they will come to see me as a friend.”
Isabel smiled. “Astrid, I’m so glad we are having lunch together. I feel like I finally know who you are now.”
—
After lunch, as the two of them stood at the entrance of the Helena May on Garden Road bidding farewell to each other, Isabel asked, “What are you going to do now? Some shopping in Central? Can my driver drop you off anywhere?”
“Well, I’m leaving for Singapore in a few hours, but I’m going to meet with Charlie first. I think he’s at the house, waiting for me to make some decisions about the decor.”
“The new house in Shek O? I’d love to see it sometime. After all, Chloe and Delphine are going to be spending half their lives there.”
“Of course. Actually, if you’re free, why don’t you come with me right now?”
“Oh…well…I wouldn’t want to intrude…” Isabel said hesitantly.
“No, no, I’m sure it will be fine. Let me just text Charlie.”
Astrid quickly shot off a text:
ASTRID LEONG: Hey! Just finishing up with Isabel. It went GREAT.
CHARLIE WU: I’m so glad.
AL: Isabel would like to see the house. Ok if I bring her?
CW: Sure, if you don’t mind.
AL: Of course not. See you soon.
“Let’s go!” Astrid said, looking up from her phone. The two of them jumped into the back of Isabel’s chauffeured Range Rover and sped off. As they made their way around the south side of Hong Kong Island, the landscape began to change dramatically as the dense skyscrapers that cascaded down the mountainside gave way to picturesque bays and ocean vistas.
The winding highway took them through Repulse Bay and its crescent-shaped beaches, hugging the coastline as they passed Deep Water Bay and the village of Stanley. Finally, they arrived in Shek O, a historic fishing village on the southeast corner of Hong Kong Island, which was also home to one of the world’s most exclusive neighborhoods.
“Charlie’s always longed to live here, but I would never let him. I prefer being closer to town. I could never live way out here in the middle of nowhere—I’m too much of a city girl,” Isabel remarked as they pulled up in front of an imposing metal gate with an attached gatehouse.
“There’s no one there,” the chauffeur said.
“Oh, we don’t have it staffed yet. Just enter 110011 into the keypad,” Astrid said, glancing at the instructions Charlie had texted her. The gate slid open silently, and they proceeded down the long driveway to the house. Rounding the corner, the oceanfront villa cantilevered on a rocky cliff came into view.
“This place is so Charlie.” Isabel laughed as they drove up to the imposing series of contemporary structures designed by Tom Kundig clad in steel, limestone, and glass.
“Your house on The Peak is more traditional, isn’t it?” Astrid inquired.
“I’m not sure where you heard that, but it’s classical Palladian, built in the twenties. I have it done in a French provincial style. I wanted it to feel like a manor in Provence. You must come over the next time you’re back.”
“I’ve heard that it’s one of the most elegant houses in Hong Kong,” Astrid said.
They stepped out of the car and entered a large courtyard dominated by a reflecting pool. Here the walls of the main villa were made entirely of glass, allowing for a seamless transition between the inside and outdoors. Entering the house, Astrid was once again taken aback by the spectacular ocean views from every vantage point in the house.
In the great hall, an immense window perfectly framed a tiny island just beyond the coastline, and stepping into the living room, a wall of windows opened onto the terrace, where an infinity pool ran along the entire side of the house, its horizon line melding into the South China Sea.
As Charlie came around the corner to greet them, Isabel graciously offered, “Charlie, you’ve outdone yourself. You finally have your dream house by the sea.”
“I’m glad you approve, Izzie. We’re still quite a way from being done and we’ve just received the first big pieces of furniture, but here, let me show you Chloe and Delphine’s private wing.”
After giving Isabel a tour of her daughters’ rooms, the three of them entered the dining room, where an immense vintage George Nakashima dining table had just been delivered. Standing around the free-form structure that resembled an immense piece of driftwood, Charlie looked at Astrid. “What do you think? Is it too Pacific Northwest?”
Astrid considered the piece for several moments. “I love it—it goes great under the Lindsey Adelman chandelier.”
“Phew, I’m so relieved!” Charlie said with a chuckle.
Isabel stared up at the bronze light fixture that resembled blown-glass bubbles budding from the stems of an intricate tree branch, saying nothing. In her former life as Mrs. Charles Wu, she would have vetoed all of this, but now as the three of them headed for the front door, she simply said, “I do think Chloe and Delphine will love it here.”
“Well, you will always be welcome,” Astrid said, her heart soaring that Isabel was being so agreeable about everything. It had been such an unexpectedly lovely day. As they stepped outside into the courtyard, Astrid’s phone pinged, and she saw four text messages suddenly pop up:
LUDIVINE DOLAN: I went to pick up Cassian after school but found out that his father already got him.
….
FELICITY LEONG: WHERE ARE YOU? WHAT TIME YOU GETTING BACK TONIGHT? COME STRAIGHT TO TYERSALL PK! SO MUCH HAPPENING WITH THE HOUSE! WE NEED YOU!
….
OLIVER T’SIEN: Aren’t you friends with Prince Alois of Liechtenstein? And that Poet Prince Fazza of Dubai? Can you connect us? Call me, will explain.
….
LUDIVINE DOLAN: Just spoke to Mr. Teo and asked if he needed me to help with Cassian but he wants me to take the rest of the day off. No idea what’s happening.
Astrid put her phone back into her purse, suddenly feeling a bit sick to her stomach. Why the hell did she have to go back to Singapore?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BONDI BEACH, SYDNEY
“Are you fishing on your dock?” Nick asked when his father picked up the phone. He could hear the crashing waves along the seashore.
“No, I’m doing the cliff walk from Bondi to Coogee right now.”
“I love that hike.”
“Yeah, it’s a good day for it. You know your mother invited Daisy, Nadine, Lorena, and Carol to Sydney? The whole gin gang’s here, and it’s such a toilet-seat-down invasion, I needed to get out of the house. The ladies are busy hatching some kind of plot…I think involving Tyersall Park.”
“That’s the reason I was calling, Dad. It looks like things are moving far too quickly with the house. Your sisters seem really primed to sell it to the highest bidder, and I don’t even want to tell you what those developers have planned.”
“Does it even matter? Once we sell it, the new owners can do whatever they want.”
“But I feel like everyone’s losing sight of the big picture,” Nick argued. “Tyersall Park is a unique property, and we need to make sure that it’s preserved. I mean, I’m at the house right now, and even just looking out the window onto the gardens—the rambutan trees are bearing fruit, and they are flaming red. There’s nothing quite like it.”
“I think you’re being too sentimental,” Philip said.
“Maybe I am, but I’m just surprised that no one else cares about this house in the way that I do. Everyone’s just seeing dollar signs while I see something so rare that needs to be protected.”
Philip sighed. “Nicky, I know for you this house was like some
never-never land, but for the rest of us, it was a bit of a prison. Living in a palace was no fun as a kid. I grew up with nothing but rules. There were so many rooms I wasn’t even allowed to enter, chairs I couldn’t sit in because they were too valuable. You have no idea, because by the time you came along, my mother was a very different person.”
“Yes, I’ve heard the stories. But surely you must have some good memories?”
“To me, it’s just one gigantic headache. Don’t forget, I was shipped off to boarding school practically as soon as I could walk, so it never truly felt like home to me. Now, even the thought of having to come back to Singapore to deal with all these property folks fills me with dread. Do you know how many ACS old boys have called me up out of the blue to invite me to lunch, to golf, all that nonsense? People I haven’t seen in eons are suddenly behaving like my best friend because they can smell the money.”
“I’m sorry that’s happening, Dad. But let me ask you something.” Nick took a deep breath as he prepared to make his pitch. “If I can somehow raise the money, would you consider leveraging your thirty percent stake and joining me and possibly Alistair to buy everyone else out? If you give me a little time, I know I can find a way to make it financially worthwhile for us to own the estate.”
The line went silent for a moment, and Nick wasn’t sure if his father was upset or if he was just on a particularly arduous stretch of the hike. Suddenly he spoke up again. “If you care that much about Tyersall Park, why don’t you handle this whole house sale? Do what you think is best. I’ll give you permission to act as my proxy, power of attorney, whatever they call it. In fact, I’ll sign over my thirty percent stake to you right now.”
“Really?” Nick said, not quite believing what he was hearing.
“Sure. I mean, it’s all going be yours one day anyway.”
“I don’t even know what to say.”
“Do whatever you want with the house, just keep me out of it,” Philip said, climbing along the edge of a beautiful cliff-side cemetery overlooking the South Pacific. “Nicky, I’m up at that cemetery by Bronte now. Will you make sure—”
“Yes, Dad, you’ve told me many times before. You want to be buried there. You want to have a view of the humpback whales doing backflips for all of eternity.”
“And if they run out of lots, you’ll find another ocean-side spot? New Zealand, Tasmania, anyplace but Singapore.”
“Of course.” Nick laughed. He hung up the phone and found Rachel staring at him curiously. “That sounded weird, from what I heard.”
“Yeah, it was one of the weirdest calls I’ve ever made. I think my father just gave me his share of Tyersall Park.”
“WHAAT?” Rachel’s eyes got huge.
“He told me he’d sign over his stake, and I can do whatever I want as long as I leave him out of it.”
“What’s the catch?”
“There’s no catch. My dad has never been interested in financial matters at all. He really would rather not be bothered with it.”
“I guess when you’ve been born with it…” Rachel shrugged.
“Precisely! I still can’t believe how easy it was to convince him, though. I thought I was going to have to fly down to Sydney and grovel on my knees.”
“With your father’s share in your hands, you’re the biggest stakeholder now!” Rachel said excitedly.
“No, we are. And this gives us the leverage to stall the bidding war and buy some time.”
“Do you want to go downstairs and break the news to your aunties?”
Nick grinned. “No time like the present.”
They left their bedroom and walked over to the drawing room where Felicity, Victoria, and Alix were all sitting, unusually silent.
“I have an announcement to make,” Nick said boldly.
Felicity had a peculiar look on her face. “Nicky, we just got off the phone. It seems we have a new offer on the table.”
“I have an offer to propose as well.”
“Well, this is a very unusual offer…it comes from someone who wants to preserve the house entirely and not build a single new structure on the estate,” Alix said.
Nick and Rachel exchanged looks of surprise. “Really? And they are offering more than those Zion people?” Rachel asked dubiously.
“A great deal more. The offer is for ten billion dollars.”
Nick was incredulous. “Ten BILLION? Who on earth would want to pay so much money and not develop the property?”
“It’s some fellow from China. He wants to come and see the house tomorrow.”
“China? What’s his name?” Rachel asked.
Felicity frowned. “If I recall correctly, I think Oliver said his name was Jack something. Jack Ting? Jack Ping?”
Nick put his hand on his forehead in dismay. “Oh God—Jack Bing.”
TWENTY-FOUR HOURS EARLIER…
KUALA LUMPUR, MALAYSIA
“So, she is the queen?”
“No, Kitty, she is the mother of the current Sultan of Perawak, so she’s the Queen Mother but she’s called the Dowager Sultana,” Oliver explained through his headset microphone as they rode together in the helicopter.
“Ah. So I have to curtsy to her?”
“You certainly do. She’s as royal as it gets. And remember, only speak when you are spoken to.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re not allowed to speak to her. The sultana initiates the conversation and gets to do all the talking—you simply keep your pretty mouth shut until she asks you a question. And if you have to leave the room for any reason—which you really shouldn’t before she does—but if you feel the sudden urge to vomit, make sure to walk out of the room facing her. The sultana must never see your ass, so you are never to turn your back on her, understood?”
Kitty nodded diligently. “I understand—no talking, no vomiting, no ass-backing.”
“Now, as I said, I don’t want you to expect too much today. This is just an introduction, and a chance for Her Majesty to become acquainted with you.”
“So you’re saying she isn’t going to give me a knighthood today?”
“Kitty, women don’t get knighted in Malaysia. There is a whole different system of honors here. The sultana can bestow a title whenever she pleases, but don’t get your hopes up that it’s going to happen today.”
“You sound angry at me,” Kitty said with a little pout.
“I am not angry, Kitty. I’m just speaking over the chopper noise.” Truth be told, Oliver had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown ever since Kitty had delivered her ultimatum, and he was anxious for everything to go as planned today. He had way too much to lose if it didn’t. Trying to placate her a bit, he continued, “I’m just trying to make you understand that these titles given by royals like the sultana are real honors. They honor truly deserving people who have done a tremendous amount of good for Malaysia over a lifetime. People who build hospitals and schools, who start companies that support entire towns and provide work to thousands of locals. These honors mean a great deal more than Colette’s title. All she ever did was spread her legs for some posh dimwit.”
The helicopter swooped over the Kuala Lumpur skyline, passing the iconic Petronas Towers as it started to descend. “So this is where the sultana lives?” Kitty asked as she peered out at the exclusive leafy neighborhood of Bukit Tunku.
“This is just her little crash pad in KL for when she comes to the capital. She has residences all over the world—a house on Kensington Palace Gardens, a villa overlooking Lake Geneva, and of course, the gigantic palace in Perawak,” Oliver informed her as the chopper touched down on the great lawn.
The two of them jumped out of the chopper, and a uniformed officer awaited them on the lawn. “Welcome to the Istana al Noor,” he said as he led them toward a humongous white palac
e that resembled a wedding cake. Entering through the front doors, Oliver and Kitty found themselves in a vast reception hall with nine gigantic pyramidal chandeliers that descended from the coffered gold-leafed ceiling like upside-down versions of the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree.
“This is her little crash pad?” Kitty remarked.
“Oh, you have no idea, Kitty. Her home in Perawak is twice the size of Buckingham Palace.”
They were shown into the drawing room, which had dramatic black marble floors and walls painted in a shimmering crimson hue. The space was filled with priceless Peranakan gilded wood antiques mixed with fantastical Claude Lalanne bronze furniture. Facing them was a vibrant pink-and-yellow triptych of Andy Warhol paintings depicting the Dowager Sultana in her younger days. “Wow, this was not what I was expecting,” Kitty said, clearly in awe of her surroundings.
“Yes, the Dowager Sultana was definitely a hell-raiser back in the seventies,” Oliver noted as they both sat down on a backless velvet settee. Next to the settee was a round Lalanne table laden with gold-framed photographs of the sultana posing with famous personages. Kitty peered at the pictures, recognizing the Queen of England, Pope John Paul II, Barack and Michelle Obama, Indira Gandhi, and a woman with an enormous pile of blond hair.
“Who is that blond woman? She looks so familiar. Is she some queen?” Kitty asked.
Oliver squinted at the picture and then let out a quick laugh. “No, but she is adored by many queens. That’s Dolly Parton.”
“Ah,” Kitty said. Suddenly the double doors opened, and two honor guards in full-dress uniform entered. Flanking the doorway, they clicked their heels at attention and tapped the base of their long bayonets on the marble floor twice in unison. “We need to stand, Kitty,” Oliver suggested. Kitty quickly stood up, smoothing out the wrinkles on the front of her ankle-length Roksanda skirt and then adjusting her posture.
