by Kevin Kwan
Just then, Eleanor entered the gallery, squinting at the bright lights. She immediately put her sunglasses back on.
“Eleanor!” Lorena said in surprise. “I didn’t know you were coming to this!”
“I wasn’t planning to, but Carol was given tickets by her banker at UOB, and she convinced me to come. She needs cheering up.”
“Where is she?”
“In the toilet, of course. You know her weak bladder.”
“Well, there’s nothing here that will cheer her up, unless she wants to see jewelry that will give her tetanus,” Daisy reported.
“I told Carol this would be a waste of time! Sarita Singh only wants to impress her arty-farty international friends these days. Three years ago she invited me, Felicity, and Astrid, and it was all this Victorian mourning jewelry. Nothing but black jet and brooches made from the hair of dead people. Hak sei yen!*5 Only Astrid could appreciate it.”
“Let me tell you what I’m appreciating right now—your new Birkin bag! I never thought you’d be caught dead with one of these. Didn’t you once say that only tacky Mainlanders carried such bags?” Nadine asked.
“Funny you should say that—this was a gift from Bao Shaoyen.”
“Wah, ah nee ho miah!*6 I told you the Baos were loaded,” Daisy said.
“Well, you were right—the Baos are loaded beyond belief. My God, the way I’ve seen them spend in just the few months they’ve been here! Nadine, if you thought your Francesca was a spendthrift, you should see how that Carlton spends. I have never seen a boy more obsessed with cars in my life! At first his mother swore she would never let him set foot in another sports car, but every time I go over there, there’s some exotic new car in their sky garage. Apparently he’s been buying cars and shipping them back to China. He claims he’ll make a fat profit reselling them to his friends.”
“Well, it sounds like Carlton has made quite a recovery!” Lorena said.
“Yes, he hardly even needs his crutches anymore. Oh, in case you were still thinking of him for your Tiffany, you should stop. Apparently he’s already got a girlfriend. A fashion model or something like that—she lives in Shanghai but flies down to see him every weekend.”
“Carlton is so handsome and charming, of course there must be a long line of girls trying to catch him,” Nadine said.
“He may be all that, but I can see now why Shaoyen loses sleep over her son. She told me that the past few months have been the most relaxed time she’s had in years. She’s afraid that once Carlton is fully back on his feet again and they return to China, he will be impossible to manage.”
Lowering her voice, Lorena asked, “Speaking of China, did you meet with Mr. Wong?”
“Of course. Aiyah, that Mr. Wong has put on so much weight—I think the private investigating business must be zheen ho seng lee.”*7
“So, everything is good? Did you read the dossier?”
“Did I ever. You won’t believe what I found out about the Baos,” Eleanor said with a little smile.
“What? What?” Lorena asked, leaning in closer.
Just then, Carol entered the gallery and made a beeline for Lorena and Eleanor. “Alamak, there was such a long line for the bathroom! How’s the show?”
Daisy took her by the arm and said, “I think there were more interesting things to see in the jambun*8 than in this show. Come, let’s see if the food is any better. I hope they have some spicy samosas.”
As the ladies made their way down the passageway toward the dining room, an Indian woman with snow-white hair wearing a simple bone-colored sari emerged from one of the rooms and caught sight of them. “Eleanor Young, is that you looking so mysterious behind those sunglasses?” the woman asked in an elegant, lilting voice.
Eleanor took off her sunglasses. “Ah, Mrs. Singh! I didn’t realize you were back in town.”
“Yes, yes. I’m just hiding from the crowd. Tell me, how is Su Yi? I missed her Chap Goh Meh*9 party the other night.”
“She’s very well.”
“Good, good. I’ve been meaning to pay her a visit since I got back from Cooch Behar, but I’ve been so jet-lagged this time. And how is Nicky? Did he return for New Year’s?”
“Not this year, no,” Eleanor said, forcing a smile.
Mrs. Singh gave her a knowing look. “Well, I’m sure he’ll be back next year.”
“Yes of course,” Eleanor said, as she proceeded to introduce the ladies. Mrs. Singh nodded graciously at everyone. “Tell me, are you all enjoying my daughter-in-law’s exhibition?”
“It’s very interesting,” Daisy offered.
“To be honest, I much preferred when you used to show your own jewelry,” Eleanor ventured.
“Come with me,” Mrs. Singh said with a mischievous smile. She led the women up a back staircase and down another passageway lined with Mughal-era portraits of various Indian royals in antique gilt frames. Soon they came upon an ornate doorway inlaid with turquoise and mother-of-pearl, guarded by a pair of Indian police officers. “Don’t tell Sarita, but I decided to have a little party of my own,” she said, flinging the door open.
Inside was Mrs. Singh’s private sitting room, an airy space opening onto a luxuriant veranda lined with lime trees. A butler was handing out steaming cups of chai, while a sitar player plucked a soft, entrancing melody in a corner. Several ladies in iridescent saris sprawled on the deep purple divans, nibbling on sweet ladoos, while others sat cross-legged on the Kashmir silk carpet, admiring the rows upon rows of jewels blindingly arrayed on large forest green velvet trays in the middle of the floor. It felt like being at a pajama party inside the vault of Harry Winston.
Daisy’s and Nadine’s jaws dropped, and even Lorena—whose family owned an international chain of jewelers—couldn’t help but be impressed by the sheer variety and magnificence of the pieces. There were easily hundreds of millions’ worth of jewels just lying on the ground in front of them.
Mrs. Singh breezed into the room, a swish of chiffon trailing behind her. “Come in, ladies. Don’t be shy, and please feel free to try anything on.”
“Are you serious?” Nadine asked, her pulse beginning to race.
“Yes, yes. When it comes to jewels, I ascribe to the Elizabeth Taylor school of thought—jewels should be worn and enjoyed, not stared at from behind a glass case.”
Before Mrs. Singh could even finish her sentence, Nadine had instinctively grabbed one of the biggest pieces on display—a necklace comprised of twelve strands of ridiculously oversize pearls and diamonds. “Oh my GOD-ness, it’s all one necklace!”
“Yes, it’s such a silly thing. Believe it or not, Garrard made it for my grandfather for Queen Victoria’s Jubilee, and since he weighed over three hundred pounds, it draped nicely across his entire belly. But how can you even wear such a thing in public these days?” Mrs. Singh said as she struggled to fasten the enormous baroque pearl clasp behind Nadine’s neck.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Nadine said excitedly, a little bubble of spit forming at the corner of her mouth as she gazed at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Her entire torso was smothered in diamonds and pearls.
“You’ll get a backache if you have it on for more than fifteen minutes,” Mrs. Singh warned.
“Oh, it’s worth it! It’s worth it!” Nadine panted as she began to try on a cuff bracelet made entirely of cabochon rubies.
“Now this I like,” Daisy said, picking out an exquisite brooch in the shape of a peacock feather inlaid with lapis, emeralds, and sapphires that perfectly matched a peacock’s natural hues.
Mrs. Singh smiled. “That was my dear mama’s. Cartier designed it for her in the early 1920s. I remember she used to wear it in her hair!”
Two maids entered bearing bowls of freshly made gulab jamun,*10 and the ladies began enjoying the sinfully sweet treat in one of the corners of the room. Carol finished her dessert in two bites and looked into her silver dessert bowl rather wistfully. “I thought all this would make me happier,
but I probably should have just gone to church instead.”
“Aiyah, what’s the matter, Carol?” Lorena asked.
“Take a guess, lor. It’s that son of mine. Ever since Dato’ died, I’ve hardly seen or heard from Bernard. It’s as if I don’t exist anymore. I’ve only met my granddaughter twice since she was born—first time at Gleneagles Hospital, and then when they came back for Dato’s funeral. Now Bernard doesn’t even return my calls. The maids tell me that he is still in Macau, but that wife of his is flying off somewhere else every day. Her baby is not even three and she is neglecting her already! Every week I open the paper and see some news about her at this party or that party, or buying something new. Did you hear about that painting she bought for almost two hundred million?”
Daisy looked at her sympathetically. “Aiyah, Carol, I’ve learned over the years to stop listening to all the stories about my children’s spending. Wah mai chup.*11 At a certain point, you have to let them make their own choices. After all, they can afford it.”
“But that’s precisely my worry—they can’t afford it. Where are they getting all this money from?”
“Didn’t Bernard gain control of all the businesses when Dato’ died?” Nadine asked, suddenly more interested in Carol’s story than in the gold-and-cognac diamond sautoir she was holding up to the sunlight.
“Of course not. Do you think my husband would be foolish enough to put Bernard in control while I’m still alive? He knows that boy would sell my own house from under me and leave me on the roadside if he could! After Bernard ran off with Kitty to Las Vegas to get married, Dato’ was furious. He forbid anyone in the family office from giving Bernard access to any money and totally locked up his trust fund. He cannot touch the principal—only the annual income.”
“So how did they afford to buy that painting?” Lorena asked.
“They must be spending on overdraft. The banks all know how much he’ll be worth one day, so they are only too happy to lend to him now,” Eleanor conjectured as she fiddled with a bejeweled Indian dagger.
“Aiyoh, so shameful! I can’t imagine my son ever having to borrow money from a bank!” Carol moaned.
“Well, if you say he doesn’t have any money right now, I can assure you that is what he must be doing. That’s what one of Philip’s cousins did. He was living like the Sultan of Brunei, and only when his father died did they realize he had mortgaged the house, mortgaged everything, to support his lifestyle and his two mistresses—one in Hong Kong and one in Taipei!” Eleanor said.
“Bernard has no money. He only gets about ten million a year to live on,” Carol confirmed.
“Well, definitely they must be borrowing heavily, because that Kitty seems to be spending like a siow tsah bor,”*12 Daisy said. “What’s that you’re playing with, Elle?”
“It’s some unusual Indian dagger,” Eleanor replied. It was actually two daggers that went into opposite ends of a scabbard encrusted in cloudy, colorful gems, and she had flicked the latch open on one end and was absentmindedly sliding the small sharp knife in and out. Looking around for her hostess, she said, “Mrs. Singh, tell me about this lovely little weapon.”
Mrs. Singh, who was seated on the corner of a nearby divan chatting with another guest, glanced over for a moment.
“Oh that’s not a weapon. It’s a very ancient Hindu relic. Be careful not to open it, Eleanor, it’s very bad luck! In fact, you shouldn’t even be touching it. There is an evil spirit that’s being held captive in there by the two knives, and a great misfortune will befall your firstborn if you unleash it. Now, we don’t want anything to happen to dear Nicky, do we? So please leave that alone.”
The ladies looked at her in horror, and for one of the few times in her life, Eleanor was absolutely speechless.
* * *
*1 Hokkien for “troublesome.”
*2 Crazy Rich Chinese + Indonesia = Chindos
*3 Hokkien for “dog shit.”
*4 “Red hair” in Hokkien, this is a slang term used to refer to Caucasians of all stripes, even though the majority of Caucasians don’t have red hair (or stripes).
*5 Although this Cantonese phrase means “Scares people to death,” it is used to describe anything that’s gross or creepy.
*6 Hokkien for “You have such a good life.”
*7 Hokkien for “a very profitable business.”
*8 Malay for “toilet.”
*9 Hokkien for “Fifteenth Night,” a celebration held on the fifteenth day of the first lunar month to mark the official end of New Year celebrations. On this evening, single ladies will cast oranges in the river under the full moon in the hopes of finding good husbands, while everyone else in Singapore starts planning their diets.
*10 Deep-fried milk dumplings soaked in a sweet rose syrup.
*11 Hokkien for “I couldn’t give a damn.”
*12 Hokkien for “insane woman.”
8
DIAMOND BALLROOM, RITZ-CARLTON HOTEL
HONG KONG, MARCH 7, 2013
PINNACLE MAGAZINE’S “SOCIAL SWELLS” COLUMN
by Leonardo Lai
Last night, a star-studded crowd lit up the Fifteenth Annual Ming Foundation Pinnacle Ball. The event is a labor of love for Connie Ming, the first wife of Hong Kong’s second richest man Ming Ka-Ching, and the HK$25,000-per-seat tickets to this year’s soiree sold fast when word got out that the Duchess of Oxbridge, a cousin of H.M. Queen Elizabeth II, would attend, and that the Four Heavenly Kings*1 would reunite to perform a tribute to legendary songstress Tracy Kuan, the recipient of this year’s Lifetime Pinnacle Award.
The theme was “Nicholas and Alexandra,” the romantic yet ill-fated imperial couple of Russia, and there was no more perfect setting than the Ritz-Carlton Diamond Ballroom on the third floor of Hong Kong’s tallest building. Guests arrived to find the space transformed into “St. Petersburg in Winter,” with an ocean of Swarovski crystal icicles dangling from the ceiling, birch trees covered in “snow,” and towering Fabergé egg centerpieces on every table. Oscar Liang, the enfant terrible of Cantonese fusion cuisine, outdid himself with his succulent and inventive Ekaterinburg Pork—suckling pig riddled with truffle-infused gold-leaf “bullets” and thrown down a cellar chute before being flame-roasted over Russian coffee grounds.
In this fabulous setting, Hong Kong’s most royal brought out all the big stones from their vaults. Hostess supreme Connie Ming wore a czar’s ransom worth of canary diamonds with her custom strapless black-and-white beaded Oscar de la Renta gown, Ada Poon wore the famous Poon rubies against her rose chiffon couture Elie Saab, and China’s biggest star, Pan TingTing, drew gasps of delight in the gossamer white Empire waist gown once worn by Audrey Hepburn in the film War and Peace. The Kai brothers got into a fistfight (again), and a crisis was narrowly averted when Mrs. Y. K. Loong was shown to the wrong table where the children from her late husband’s second family were seated (the lawsuit to settle the estate resumes later this month). But all was forgotten by the time Tracy Kuan made her entrance on a reindeer sleigh pulled by eight six-pack-popping shirtless male models in Cossack uniforms. Tracy, in a white-fur-and-leather corset dress by Alexander McQueen enchanted the audience by singing three encores accompanied by the Four Heavenly Kings, who really sang live this time.
Also honored was Business Pinnacle of the Year Michael Teo, the ridiculously photogenic tech titan whose meteoric rise has been much talked about. After the stock price of his tiny software firm shot up higher than Mount Fuji two years ago, Michael took the proceeds and opened his own venture capital firm, which made gazillions more launching some of Asia’s most winning digital start-ups, like Gong Simi?, the Singlish messaging app. The big question I have is where has Michael been hiding his beautiful Singaporean wife all this time? The doe-eyed Astor Teo looked absolutely ravishing in a wispy black lace number (vintage Fontana), though I wished there was more bling to her diamond-and-aquamarine earrings. (With all the money her husband has made lately, it’s high time he upgraded he
r jewels!)
Sir Francis Poon, who was awarded the Philanthropic Pinnacle Award, got the biggest surprise of the evening when Mrs. Bernard Tai (aka the former soap star Kitty Pong), overcome with emotion from Sir Francis’s touching slide show about his medical rescue missions, rushed onstage and shocked the crowd by spontaneously announcing a $20 million gift to his foundation! Mrs. Tai wore a scene-stealing scarlet Guo Pei gown with what looked like a billion dollars’ worth of emeralds and a six-foot-long train made out of peacock feathers. But it sure looks like she won’t need any feathers to soar to new social heights.
• • •
Astrid settled into a club chair at the SilverKris Lounge at Hong Kong International Airport, waiting for her flight to Los Angeles to begin boarding. She got out her iPad to do a final check of e-mails, and an instant message popped up.
CHARLIE WU: Good seeing you last night.
ASTRID LEONG TEO: Likewise.
CW: What are you up to today? Lunch possible?
ALT: Sorry, I’m already at the airport.
CW: Such a short trip!
ALT: Yes, that’s why I didn’t call you beforehand. This was a one-nighter on my way to LA.
CW: Your hubby buying up another Silicon Valley company this week?
ALT: No, hubby’s already back in S’pore. I’m going to California for Nicky’s wedding in Montecito. (Shh! It’s a secret, and no one in my family knows I’m going except my cousin Alistair, who’s traveling with me.)
CW: So Nicky’s finally marrying that girl everyone couldn’t stop talking about a couple of years ago?
ALT: Yes, Rachel. She’s great.
CW: Please give him my congratulations. Michael’s not going to the wedding?
ALT: It would have looked too suspicious if both of us ran off to the U.S. so soon after our last trip. BTW, he was thrilled to meet you last night. Apparently he’s a huge fan of yours and couldn’t believe I was the one making the introductions.
CW: Did he not know we were once engaged?!?
