Crazy Rich Asians

At that moment, Eleanor Young walked up the aisle in a gunmetal-gray pantsuit that shimmered subtly, clearly delighting in the attention she was getting. She caught sight of Rachel and forced a smile. “Oh, hello there! Look Philip, it’s Rachel Chu!” In another designer dress. Every time I see this girl, she’s wearing something more expensive than the last time. My God, she must be draining Nicky’s money market account.

“Did you and Nicky stay up late last night? I bet you kids really went wild after we old fogies left the dato’s yacht, didn’t you?” Philip asked with a wink.

“No, not at all. Nick needed to get to bed early, so we headed home soon after you left.”

Eleanor smiled stiffly. The cheek of this girl to call Tyersall Park “home”!

Suddenly a hush fell over the crowd. Rachel thought at first that the ceremony was beginning, but when she glanced to the back of the church, all she saw was Astrid leading her grandmother up the aisle.

“My God, Mummy’s here!” Alexandra gasped.

“What? You must be hallucinating,” Victoria shot back, turning around in disbelief.

Oliver’s mouth was agape, and every head on the groom’s side of the church was trained on Astrid and her grandmother. Walking a few discreet paces behind them were the ubiquitous Thai lady’s maids and several Gurkhas.

“What’s the big deal?” Rachel whispered to Oliver.

“You don’t know how monumental this is. Su Yi hasn’t been seen at a public function like this in decades. She doesn’t go out to other people’s events—people come to her.”

A woman standing in the aisle suddenly dropped into a deep curtsy at the sight of Nick’s grandmother.

“Who’s that woman?” Rachel asked Oliver, mesmerized by the gesture.

“That’s the wife of the president. She was born a Wong. The Wongs were saved by Su Yi’s family during World War II, so they have always gone to great lengths to show their respect.”

Rachel gazed at Nick’s cousin and grandmother with renewed wonder, both so striking as they made their stately procession up the aisle. Astrid looked immaculately chic in a Majorelle-blue sleeveless halter-neck dress with gold cuff bracelets on both arms dramatically stacked all the way up to her elbows. Shang Su Yi was resplendent in a robe-like dress of pale violet that possessed the most distinctive gossamer sheen. “Nick’s grandmother looks amazing. That dress …”

“Ah yes, that’s one of her fabulous lotus-fabric dresses,” Oliver said.

“As in lotus flowers?” Rachel asked, to clarify.

“Yes, from the stem of the lotus flower, actually. It’s an extremely rare fabric that’s handwoven in Myanmar, and normally available only for the most high-ranking monks. I’m told that it feels incredibly light and has an extraordinary ability to keep cool in the hottest climates.”

As they approached, Su Yi was swarmed by her daughters.

“Mummy! Are you feeling okay?” Felicity asked in a worried tone.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?” Victoria snapped.

“Hiyah, we would have waited for you,” Alexandra said excitedly.

Su Yi waved away all the fuss. “Astrid convinced me at the last minute. She reminded me that I wouldn’t want to miss seeing Nicky as a best man.”

As she uttered those words, two trumpeters appeared at the foot of the altar to herald the arrival of the groom. Colin entered the main sanctuary from a side alcove, accompanied by Nick, Lionel Khoo, and Mehmet Sabançi, all in dark gray morning suits and silvery blue ties. Rachel couldn’t help but swell up with pride—Nick looked so dashing standing by the altar.

The lights in the sanctuary dimmed, and through a side door appeared a crowd of blond boys dressed in faun-like costumes of wispy white linen. Each rosy-cheeked boy clutched a glass jar filled with fireflies, and as more and more towheaded boys emerged to form two lines along both sides of the church sanctuary, Rachel realized there had to be at least a hundred of them. Illuminated by the flickering lights from their jars, the boys began to sing the classic English song “My True Love Hath My Heart.”

“I don’t believe it—it’s the Vienna Boys’ Choir! They flew in the fucking Vienna Boys’ Choir!” Oliver exclaimed.

“Aiyah, what sweet little angels,” Nancy gasped, overcome with emotion by the haunting alto voices. “It reminds me of the time King Hassan of Morocco invited us to his fort in the High Atlas Mountains—”

“Oh, do shut up!” Victoria said sharply, wiping tears from her eyes.