Nick stood at one end of the desserts, wondering what to have first: the
“Oh, your cook’s chocolate chiffon! Now
“We tried getting together a couple of times this spring, but she’s always overbooked. Isn’t she dating some high-flying hedge-fund guy?”
“It’s not serious; that man is twice her age.”
“Well, I see her pictures in the newspapers all the time.”
“That’s just the problem. That has to stop. It’s so unseemly. I want my daughter to mix with quality people, not the so-called Asian jet set in New York. All those pretenders are riding Amanda’s coattails—she’s just too naïve to see that.”
“Oh, I don’t think Mandy’s that naïve.”
“She needs proper company, Nicky.
“Of course. I spoke to her last month and she told me that she was too busy to come back for Colin’s wedding.”
“Yes, it’s too bad, isn’t it?”
“I’ll call her when I’m back in New York. But I do think I’m far too boring for Amanda these days.”
“No, no, she would benefit from spending more time with you—you were so close once upon a time. Now tell me about this charming girl you’ve brought home to meet your grandmother. I see she’s already won over Oliver. You better tell her to be careful with him—he’s such a vicious gossip, that one.”
Astrid and Rachel sat by the lotus fountain, watching a lady dressed in flowing apricot silk robes play a
“
“It’s okay, Astrid. I’ll just eat most of his, like always,” Rachel explained with a laugh. She tasted the cake, her eyes widening instantly. It was the perfect combination of chocolate and cream, with an airy melt-in-your-mouth lightness. “Hmmm. I like that it isn’t too sweet.”
“That’s why I can never eat other chocolate cakes. They’re always too sweet, too dense, or have too much frosting,” Nick said.
Rachel reached over for another bite. “Just get the recipe and I’ll try making it at home.”
Astrid arched her eyebrows. “You can try, Rachel, but trust me, my cook has tried, and it never comes out quite this good. I suspect Ah Ching’s withholding some secret ingredient.”
As they sat in the courtyard, the tightly rolled red petals of the
“It always reminds me of a swan ruffling its wings, about to take flight,” Astrid remarked.
“Or maybe about to go into attack mode,” Nick added. “Swans can get really aggressive.”
“My swans were never aggressive,” Great-aunt Rosemary said as she walked up, overhearing Nick’s comment. “Don’t you remember feeding the swans in my pond when you were a little boy?”
“I remember being rather afraid of them actually,” Nick replied. “I would break off little bits of bread, throw them into the water, and then run for cover.”
“Nicky was a little wimp,” Astrid teased.
“Was he?” Rachel asked in surprise.
“Well, he was so tiny. For the longest time everyone was afraid that he would never grow—I was so much taller than him. And then suddenly he shot up,” Astrid said.
“Hey, Astrid, stop discussing my secret shame,” Nick said with a mock frown.
“Nicky, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. After all, you’ve grown up to be quite the strapping specimen, as I’m sure Rachel would agree,” Great-aunt Rosemary said saucily. The women all laughed.