“But you need to give me more time to prepare for a photo shoot. Don’t you remember what happened the last time when they shot us for Hong Kong Tattle?”

“Well, I’m telling you now. So stop wasting time and go get ready.”

Constantine, Augustine, and Kalliste stood obediently in a straight line in the middle of the sunken formal living room, all dressed up in their new outfits from Ralph Lauren Kids. Eddie sprawled on the plush velvet brocade sofa, inspecting each of his children, while Fiona, the Chinese maid, and one of the Filipino nannies hovered close by. “Augustine, I think you should wear your Gucci loafers with that outfit and not those Bally moccasins.”

“Which ones?” Augustine asked, his little voice almost a whisper.

“What? Speak up!” Eddie said.

“Which ones do I wear?” Augustine said again, not much louder.

“Sir, which pair of Gucci loafers? He has two,” Laarni, the Filipino nanny interjected.

“The burgundy ones with the red-and-green band, of course,” Eddie said, giving his six-year-old son a withering look. “Nay chee seen, ah? You can’t seriously think you can wear black shoes with khaki trousers, can you?” Eddie scolded. Augustine’s face reddened, close to tears. “Okay, that covers the tea ceremony. Now, go and change into your wedding outfits. Hurry up, I’m going to give you five minutes.” Fiona, the nanny, and the maid quickly ushered the children back to their bedrooms.

Ten minutes later, when Fiona came down the spiral stairs in a minimalist gray off-the-shoulder gown with one asymmetrical sleeve, Eddie could hardly believe his eyes. “Yau moh gau chor?* What on earth is that?”

“What do you mean?” Fiona asked.

“That dress! You look like you’re in mourning!”

“It’s Jil Sander. I love it. I showed you a picture and you approved.”

“I don’t remember seeing a picture of this dress. I never would have approved it. You look like some spinster widow.”

“There’s no such thing as a spinster widow, Eddie. Spinsters are unmarried,” Fiona said drily.

“I don’t care. How can you look like death warmed over when the rest of us look so good? See how nice and colorful your children look,” he said, gesturing to the kids, who cowered in embarrassment.

“I will be wearing my diamond-and-jade necklace with it, and the jade art deco earrings.”

“It will still look like you are going to a funeral. We’re going to the wedding of the year, with kings and queens and some of the richest people in the world and all my relatives. I don’t want people thinking that I can’t afford to buy my wife a proper dress.”

“In the first place, Eddie, I bought it with my own money, since you never pay for my clothes. And this is one of the most expensive dresses I’ve ever bought.”

“Well, it doesn’t look expensive enough.”

“Eddie, you are always contradicting yourself,” Fiona said. “First you tell me you want me to dress more expensively like your cousin Astrid, but then you criticize everything I buy.”

“Well, I criticize you when you’re wearing something that looks so cheap. It’s a disgrace to me. It’s a disgrace to your children.”

Fiona shook her head in exasperation. “You don’t have any idea what looks cheap, Eddie. Like that shiny tux you’re wearing. That looks cheap. Especially when I can see the safety pins holding your pants on.”

“Nonsense. This tux was six thousand euros. Everyone can see how expensive the fabric is and how well tailored it is, especially when they fix it properly. The pins are temporary. I’m going to button the jacket for the pictures and no one will see them.”

The doorbell made an elaborate, symphonically excessive chime.

“That must be Russell Wing. Kalliste, take off your glasses. Fi, go and change your dress—now.”

“Why don’t you just go to my closet and pick out whatever you want me to wear?” Fiona said, not wanting to argue with him anymore.

At that moment, the celebrity photographer Russell Wing entered the living room.

“Look at you Chengs! Wah, gum laeng, ah!”† he said.

“Hello Russell,” Eddie said, smiling broadly. “Thank you, thank you, we only look stylish for you!”

“Fiona, you look stunning in that dress! Isn’t it Raf Simons for Jil Sander, from next season? How in the world did you get your hands on it? I just photographed Maggie Cheung in this dress last week for Vogue China.”

Fiona said nothing.

“Oh, I always make sure my wife has the very best, Russell. Come, come, have some of your favorite cognac before we begin. Um sai hak hei,”‡ Eddie said cheerily. He turned to Fiona and said, “Darling, where are your diamonds? Go and put on your beautiful art deco diamond-and-jade necklace and then Russell can start his photo shoot. We don’t want to take up too much of his time, do we?”

As Russell was taking some of the final shots of the Cheng family posed in front of the huge bronze sculpture of a Lipizzan stallion in the front foyer, another worrying thought entered Eddie’s head. As soon as Russell was out the door with his camera equipment and a gift bottle of Camus Cognac, Eddie called his sister Cecilia.

“Cecilia, what colors will you and Tony be wearing at Colin’s wedding ball?”

“Nay gong mut yeah?”§

“The color of your dress, Cecilia. The one you’re wearing to the ball.”

“The color of my dress? How should I know? The wedding is a week away—I haven’t begun to think about what I’m going to wear, Eddie.”

“You didn’t buy a new dress for the wedding?” Eddie was incredulous.

“No, why should I?”

“I can’t believe it! What is Tony going to wear?”

“He will probably wear his dark blue suit. The one he always wears.”

“He’s not wearing a tux?”

“No. It’s not like it’s his wedding, Eddie.”

“The invitation says white tie, Cecilia.”

“It’s Singapore, Eddie, and no one there takes those things seriously. Singaporean men have no style, and I guarantee you half the men won’t even be in suits—they’ll all be wearing those ghastly untucked batik shirts.”

“I think you’re mistaken, Cecilia. It’s Colin Khoo and Araminta Lee’s wedding—all of high society will be there and everyone will be dressed to impress.”

“Well, you go right ahead, Eddie.”

Fucky fuck, Eddie thought. His whole family was going to show up looking like peasants. So bloody typical. He wondered if he could convince Colin to change his seating so that he didn’t have to be anywhere near his parents and siblings.

“Do you know what Mummy and Daddy are wearing?”

“Believe it or not, Eddie, I don’t.”

“Well—we still need to color coordinate as a family, Cecilia. There’s going to be a lot of press there, and I want to make sure we don’t clash. Just be sure you don’t wear anything gray to the main event. Fiona is wearing a gray Jil Sander ball gown. And she’s wearing a deep lavender Lanvin dress to the rehearsal dinner, and a champagne-colored Carolina Herrera to the church ceremony. Can you call Mummy and tell her?”