Crazy Rich Asians

“Yes, Peik Lin, my best friend from college,” Rachel said. “She’s been trying to get me to come visit for years.”

“All the more reason. Rachel, you’re going to love it, and I just know you’re going to flip out over the food! You do realize Singapore is the most food-obsessed country on the planet?”

“Well, just watching the way you fawn over everything you eat, I figured it’s pretty much the national sport.”

“Remember Calvin Trillin’s New Yorker piece on Singapore street foods? I’ll take you to all the local dives even he doesn’t know about.” Nick took another bite of his fluffy scone and continued with his mouth full. “I know how much you love these scones. Just wait till you taste my Ah Ma’s—”

“Your Ah Ma bakes scones?” Rachel tried to imagine a traditional Chinese grandmother preparing this quintessentially English confection.

“Well, she doesn’t exactly bake them herself, but she has the best scones in the world — you’ll see,” Nick said, turning around reflexively to make sure no one in the cozy little spot had overheard him. He didn’t want to become persona non grata at his favorite café for carelessly pledging allegiance to another scone, even if it was his grandmother’s.

At a neighboring table, the girl huddled behind a three-tiered stand piled high with finger sandwiches was getting increasingly excited by the conversation she was overhearing. She suspected it might be him, but now she had absolute confirmation. It was Nicholas Young. Even though she was only fifteen at the time, Celine Lim never forgot the day Nicholas strolled past their table at Pulau Club[6] and flashed that devastating grin of his at her sister Charlotte.

“Is that one of the Leong brothers?” their mother had asked.

“No, that’s Nicholas Young, a cousin of the Leongs,” Charlotte replied.

“Philip Young’s boy? Aiyah, when did he shoot up like that? He’s so handsome now!” Mrs. Lim exclaimed.

“He’s just back from Oxford. Double-majored in history and law,” Charlotte added, anticipating her mother’s next question.

“Why didn’t you get up and talk to him?” Mrs. Lim said excitedly.

“Why should I bother, when you swat away every guy who dares come near,” Charlotte answered curtly.

“Alamak, stupid girl! I’m only trying to protect you from fortune hunters. This one you’d be lucky to have. This one you can cheong!”

Celine couldn’t believe her mother was actually encouraging her big sister to snatch this boy. She stared curiously at Nicholas, now laughing animatedly with his friends at a table under a blue-and-white umbrella by the pool. Even from afar, he stood out in high relief. Unlike the other fellows with their regulation Indian barbershop haircuts, Nicholas had perfectly tousled black hair, chiseled Cantonese pop-idol features, and impossibly thick eyelashes. He was the cutest, dreamiest guy she’d ever seen.

“Charlotte, why don’t you go over and invite him to your fund-raiser on Saturday?” their mother kept on.

“Stop it, Mum.” Charlotte smiled through gritted teeth. “I know what I’m doing.”

As it turned out, Charlotte did not know what she was doing, since Nicholas never showed up at her fund-raiser, much to their mother’s eternal disappointment. But that afternoon at Pulau Club left such an indelible mark on Celine’s adolescent memory that six years later and on the other side of the planet, she still recognized him.

“Hannah, let me get a picture of you with that delicious sticky toffee pudding,” Celine said, taking out her camera phone. She pointed it in the direction of her friend, but surreptitiously trained the lens on Nicholas. She snapped the photo and immediately e-mailed it to her sister, who now lived in Atherton, California. Her phone pinged minutes later.

BigSis: OMFG! THAT’S NICK YOUNG! WHERE ARE U?

Celine Lim: T&S.

BigSis: Who’s the girl he’s with?

Celine Lim: GF, I think. Looks ABC.[7]

BigSis: Hmm … do you see a ring?

Celine Lim: No ring.

BigSis: PLS spy for me!!!

Celine Lim: You owe me big-time!!!

Nick gazed out the café window, marveling at the people with tiny dogs parading along this stretch of Greenwich Avenue as if it were a catwalk for the city’s most fashionable breeds. A year ago, French bulldogs were all the rage, but now it looked like Italian grey hounds were giving the Frenchies a run for their money. He faced Rachel again, resuming his campaign. “The great thing about starting out in Singapore is that it’s the perfect base. Malaysia is just across a bridge, and it’s a quick hop to Hong Kong, Cambodia, Thailand. We can even go island-hopping off Indonesia—”