Crazy Rich Asians

“They can give this resort some fancy new name, but I know for a fact the island used to be called Pulau Hantu—‘Ghost Island.’ It was one of the outlying islands where the Japanese soldiers took all the young able-bodied Chinese men and had them shot during World War II. This island is haunted with ghosts of the war dead,” Daisy Foo whispered.

“Alamak, Daisy, if you truly have faith in the Lord, you won’t believe in such things as ghosts!” Carol admonished.

“Well, what about the Holy Ghost, Carol? Isn’t he a ghost too?” Daisy retorted.

Minutes after Rachel and Nick were seated, the dinner began with military precision as a battalion of waiters marched in with glowing LED-domed trays. The engraved menu card indicated that it was Giant South Sea Scallop Consommé with Washington State Ginseng Vapors and Black Mushrooms,^* but Rachel wasn’t quite sure what to do when the white-gloved waiter at her side lifted the shimmering dome off her plate. In front of her was a bowl, but encasing the surface of the bowl was what appeared to be a pinkish, membrane-like bubble that wobbled on its own accord.

“What are we supposed to do with this?” Rachel asked.

“Just pop it!” Nick encouraged.

Rachel looked at it, giggling. “I’m afraid! I feel like some alien creature is going to burst out of it.”

“Here, stand back, I’ll pop it for you,” Mehmet, who was on her right, offered.

“No, no, I’ll do it,” Rachel said bravely. She gave it a jab with her fork, and the bubble immediately collapsed on itself, releasing a burst of pungent medicinal steam into the air. As the filmy pink membrane met the surface of the soup, it created a beautiful marbleized pattern across its surface. Rachel could now see an enormous poached scallop in the middle of the bowl and thinly julienned black mushrooms artfully positioned like sun rays around it.

“Hmm. I gather the bubble was the ginseng,” Mehmet said. “It’s always guesswork when you’re eating molecular cuisine, even more so when it’s Pacific Rim fusion molecular cuisine. What is the name of this culinary genius again?”

“I can’t remember exactly, but supposedly he trained with Chan Yan-tak before going to do an apprenticeship at El Bulli,” Nick replied. “It’s really quite yummy, but I can see from my mum’s expression that she’s having a fit.”

Four tables away, Eleanor was turning as red as the coral-beaded bolero jacket she wore over her intricately pleated Fortuny silk gown, but it had nothing to do with the soup. She had been in shock ever since she spotted Rachel on the promenade wearing the Grand Duchess Zoya sapphire necklace. Could her disapproving mother-in-law really have loaned the necklace to Rachel? Or, even more unthinkable, had she given Rachel the necklace? What sort of black magic was Rachel doing at Tyersall Park?

“Are you going to drink your soup or not?” Philip asked, interrupting her thoughts. “If you’re not going to have it, hand over the bowl before it gets cold.”

“I’ve lost my appetite tonight. Here, swap seats with me—I need to talk to your sister for a minute.” Eleanor took her husband’s seat and smiled prettily at Victoria, who was huddled in conversation with her cousin Dickie.

“Wah, Victoria, you should really wear jewelry more often—you look so pretty in these cognac diamonds.”

Victoria wanted to roll her eyes. Eleanor had never once in three decades given her a compliment, but now, when she had this heap of vulgar stones on her chest, Eleanor was suddenly gushing. She was like all her other Sung sisters, so vain and materialistic. “Yes, isn’t it fun? Mummy gave them to me. She was in a good mood today after the wedding and was doling out heaps of jewels to everyone.”

“How nice for you,” Eleanor said breezily. “And isn’t that Mummy’s sapphire necklace on Rachel Chu’s neck?”

“Yes, doesn’t it look marvelous on her? Mummy thought so too,” Victoria said with a smile. She knew perfectly well that Fiona had been given the necklace and had loaned it to Rachel (after that delicious scene on the stairs with Eddie that Ling Cheh had breathlessly reenacted for her), but she chose not to share that detail with Eleanor. Far more amusing to see Eleanor get worked up over nothing.

“Alamak, aren’t you the least bit concerned about Rachel?” Eleanor queried.

“Concerned about what?” Victoria asked, knowing full well what Eleanor meant.

“Well, her dubious family background, for starters.”