Free China Rich Girlfriend by Kevin Kwan Page B

to you. Excuse me, but I need to borrow your wife for a minute,” Eleanor said, grabbing hold of Astrid’s elbow and steering her down the long gallerylike drawing room to the corner by the grand piano. The young pianist, who looked like he was barely out of his first year at the Raffles Music College as he sweated profusely in his suit, was playing some innocuous Chopin étude.
    Astrid knew from the force of her grip that Eleanor meant business. Talking over the music, Eleanor said, “I want you to tell me the truth. Is Nicky getting married in California?”
    Astrid took a deep breath. “Yes.”
    “And when is this happening?”
    “I don’t want to lie to you, but I specifically promised Nicky I would not give out any details, so you’ll have to ask him yourself.”
    “You know as well as I do that my son has refused to take my calls for over two years!”
    “Well, that’s between you and him. Please don’t put me in the middle of this.”
    “You are in the middle of this whether you like it or not, because you two have been keeping secrets!” Eleanor was fuming.
    Astrid sighed. She hated confrontations like this. “Given the circumstances, I think you know exactly why I can’t tell you.”
    “Come on, I have a right to know!”
    “Yes, but you have no right to sabotage his wedding.”
    “I’m not going to sabotage anything! You
have
to tell me! I’M HIS MOTHER, DAMN IT!” Eleanor exploded, forgetting where she was. The shocked pianist stopped playing, and suddenly all eyes in the room were on them. Astrid could see that even her grandmother was peering over in their direction with displeasure.
    Astrid pursed her lips, refusing to say anything.
    Eleanor looked at her sharply. “This is unbelievable!”
    “No, what’s unbelievable is how you can expect Nicky to want you anywhere near his wedding,” Astrid said, her voice shaking, before she stalked off.
    • • •
    Three weeks before the New Year, the chefs from the Young, Shang, and T’sien households would gather at Tyersall Park’s cavernous kitchen to begin the marathon production of New Year delicacies. Marcus Sim, the Shang family’s acclaimed pastry chef based at their estate in England, would fly in to prepare all manner of
nyonya
desserts—rainbow-hued
kueh lapis
, delicately sculpted
ang koo kueh
, and of course, his famous
kueh bangkit
cookies with Marcona almonds. Ah Lian, the T’siens’ longtime cook, would supervise the team responsible for the labor-intensive preparation of pineapple tarts, sinfully sweet
nien gao
, and savory
tsai tao kueh
radish cakes. And Ah Ching, the chef at Tyersall Park, would oversee the New Year’s Day luncheon where a gigantic baked ham (with her famous pineapple brandy sauce) would make its annual appearance.
    But for the first time in as many years as she could remember, Eleanor did not enjoy her lunch. She hardly touched any of the ham that Geraldine Tan proclaimed to be “even juicier than last year’s,” and she couldn’t even face her favorite
neen gao
. She loved the way the sticky-rice-flour dessert cake was prepared here—cut into half-moon slices, dipped in egg batter, and fried to a golden brown so that the outer layer of the cake was light and crisp, yet sweet and gooey the minute you bit into it. But today, she just didn’t have the appetite for anything. Following strict seating protocol, she was trapped next to Bishop See Bei Sien, and she glared at her husband on the other side of the table who was tucking into another helping of ham as he chatted with the bishop’s wife.
How could he eat at a time like this?
An hour ago, she had asked Philip whether he had heard anything regarding Nicky and a wedding, and he had shocked her by saying, “Of course.”
    “WHAAAT? Why didn’t you tell me,
lah
?”
    “There was nothing to tell. I knew we weren’t going to go.”
    “What do you mean? TELL ME EVERYTHING!” Eleanor demanded.
    “Nicky called me in Sydney and asked me if I