Nick shot Colin a look that said, What the hell are you doing?

Grinning from ear to ear, Colin continued, “A few months ago, my wife and I ran into a friend of Rachel’s at the Churchill Club.” He looked over at Peik Lin, who raised her champagne glass conspiratorially. “It turns out that all through college, Rachel would play a certain song over and over until it drove Peik Lin up the wall. And guess what? I just happen to know it was one of Nick’s favorite songs too. So Nick and Rachel thought they would be dancing to some romantic waltz by the San Francisco Symphony right now, but they’re not. Ladies and gentlemen, please help me welcome Mr. and Mrs. Young to the dance floor for the very first time, accompanied by one of the world’s greatest singers.”

With those words, a band of musicians entered the small stage at the edge of the garden, followed by a petite woman with a shock of platinum blond hair. The crowd began to scream in excitement, while many of the older folks looked utterly baffled by all the excitement.

Nick and Rachel stared first at Colin and then at Peik Lin, their mouths agape.

“I can’t believe it! Did you know anything about this?” Rachel exclaimed.

“No! Sneaky bastards!” Nick said as he led Rachel onto the dance floor. The first chords of a familiar hit song began to fill the air, and the crowd roared in approval.

Philip and Eleanor Young stood on the steps leading down to the garden, watching as their son twirled his bride around with debonair ease. Philip glanced over at his wife. “Your son is happy at last. It wouldn’t hurt for you to smile a little too.”

“I’m smiling, lah, I’m smiling. I’ve been smiling till my face hurts at all those annoyingly friendly relatives of Rachel’s. Why do all these ABCs talk to you as if they think you are their best friend? It’s so presumptuous. I was all prepared for them to hate me.”

“Why would they hate you? You ended up doing a very good deed for Rachel.”

Eleanor began to say something, but then changed her mind.

“Just say it, darling, you know you want to. You’ve been wanting to tell me something all night,” Philip egged her on.

“I’m not so sure Rachel will think I did such a good deed once she really gets to know her new family.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Mr. Wong e-mailed me a new report late last night. I need to show it to you. Frankly, I think I might have made a mistake getting mixed up with the Baos in the first place.” Eleanor sighed.

“Well, it’s a little too late, darling. We’re related to them now.”

Eleanor gave her husband a look of abject horror. It was the first time this had occurred to her.

? ? ?

Nick and Rachel swayed together to the rhythm of the song, feeling almost delirious with happiness. “Can you believe we really pulled this off?” Nick asked.

“Not really. I’m waiting for the next helicopter to land.”

“No more helicopters, and no more surprises ever, I promise,” Nick said as he twirled her around. “From now on we’re just going to be a boring married couple.”

“Oh, please! When I decided to walk down the aisle with you, Nicholas Young, I knew I’d be signing up for a lifetime of surprises. I wouldn’t want it any other way. But you have to at least give me a clue where we’re going on our honeymoon this summer.”

“Well, I had all these grand plans that involved the midnight sun and a few fjords, but then your father just asked if we would visit him in Shanghai as soon as summer break starts. He’s eager for you to meet your brother, and he swears he’ll hook us up at the most romantic spots in all of China. So what do you think of that?”

“I think it’s the best idea I’ve ever heard,” Rachel said, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

Nick pulled her into an embrace. “I love you, Mrs. Young.”

“And I love you. But who says I’m going to take your name?”

Nick frowned like a hurt child, and then broke out into a grin. “You don’t have to take my name, hon. You can be Rachel Rodham Chu for all I care.”

“You know what I realized today? Rachel Chu was the name my mother gave me, but it turned out not to be my name. And even though my father’s last name is Bao, that really wasn’t his name either. The only name that’s truly all mine is Rachel Young, and that’s a choice I’m making.”

Nick gave Rachel a long tender kiss as the wedding guests broke out into applause. Then he waved for everybody to join them on the dance floor, and as Cyndi Lauper continued her song, the newlyweds began to sing along:

If you’re lost, you can look and you will find me,

time after time.

* * *

* Kopi is Singlish slang for coffee. “Kopi license” refers to any sort of license or certificate that was obtained not by true merit but by paying a small bribe to an official—enough for him or her to buy a coffee with. Though the term is used to insult doctors, lawyers, or some other qualified individual, it is most often used while swearing at bad drivers, who surely must have bribed the examiner in order to pass their driving test. (Believe it or not, Asians can sometimes be bad drivers too.)

PART TWO

If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to.

—DOROTHY PARKER

1

KO-TUNG CONSULTING GROUP

SOCIAL IMPACT ASSESSMENT

Prepared for Mrs. Bernard Tai by Corinna Ko-Tung

April 2013

Let us be completely frank and start with the obvious: Your former name was Kitty Pong, and you were not born on Hong Kong Island, Kowloon, or any of the surrounding islands that make up the former British Crown Colony of Hong Kong. Remember, for the crowd you seek to impress, your money means nothing. Especially these days, when twentysomething Mainlanders have burst onto the scene with billions apiece, the old guard have resorted to new ways of stratifying themselves. What matters more than ever now are bloodlines and when your family first made its money. Which province of China did your family originate from? Which dialect group? Were they part of the tightly knit Chiu-Chow clans, or the Shanghai émigré class? Are you second-, third-, or fourth-generation rich? And how was the fortune made? Was it in textiles or property (pre–Li Ka-Shing or post-1997)? Every minute detail matters. For instance, you can have ten billion dollars but still be considered nothing more than a speck of dirt by the Keungs, who are down to their last hundred million but can trace their lineage to the Duke of Yansheng.*1 Over the next few months, I intend to change the narrative about you. We will take your most embarrassing biographical details and turn them into assets. We will do this in a variety of ways. Let us begin.

APPEARANCE

Physique and Features

First of all, the breast reduction was one of the most astute moves you could have made, and your physique is now optimal. Before your surgery, your hourglass figure only served to fuel the rumors of your cinematic extracurricular activities, but now you have the body shape considered ideal to the women you seek to cultivate—delicately emaciated, with just a hint of a well-managed eating disorder. Please do not lose any more weight.

I must also commend your surgeon on a remarkable job on your face (remind me to get his name from you—for some of my other clients, of course). The rounder curves of your cheeks have been sculpted down and your nose has been exquisitely reshaped. (Admit it: You copied Cecilia Cheng Moncur’s nose, didn’t you? I would recognize that patrician bump anywhere.) But now you run the risk of looking too perfect, and this will only incite jealousy from your social competitors. So please refrain from any further procedures in the immediate future. No more fillers for now, and the Botox injections to your forehead are also no longer necessary, as I would like to see a few fine lines develop in the area between your eyebrows. We can always erase them in the future, but for the time being, possessing the ability to make tiny frowns will allow you to convey empathy.