Rich People Problems (36 page)

“No, I'm not waiting that long. I don't care what you have to do, how much you have to spend. I want a title and I want it before Colette's stupid monkey ball.”

“That's just not realistic, Kitty. I mean, I do know a few bisexual Italian princes that might be willing—in exchange for certain financial incentives—to marry you, but you'll have to divorce Jack.”

Kitty scoffed. “What are you talking about? I'm not divorcing my husband!”

“Then I'm afraid there's really no way to get you a royal title within a month.”

“Well then, you're out of a job! I'm not going to pay your retainer anymore. In fact, I'm stopping payment on everything right now. The Nigel Barker photo-shoot fees, all the money you've spent decorating my house,
everything
.”

“Kitty, stop being unreasonable. That's close to a hundred million dollars. You know I'll be on the hook for all those bills if you don't pay them,” Oliver sputtered in alarm.

“Exactly. So get me that title! What's higher-ranking than a countess? A duchess? A princess? An empress? I don't care if you need to bribe Prince Bibimbap of Korea, I just want Colette to have to curtsy to me the next time I encounter her. I want to wipe the floor with her face!” Kitty screamed.

“Kitty, please calm down. Kitty?” Oliver realized she had hung up on him. A wave of fear suddenly passed through his body. Kitty was one client he could not risk losing. His monthly retainer from her was the one thing that kept the wolves at bay.

Unbeknownst to the Youngs, the Shangs, or the rest of the world, Oliver's family had fallen on hard times, ever since Barings went bust in 1995. Most of the T'sien portfolio had been invested with the storied investment firm in London that were bankers to Britain's most aristocratic families, including the queen. But after the firm went bankrupt—ironically due to a rogue trader based in Singapore—the T'siens along with every Barings investor had been wiped out.

What remained in the other T'sien accounts was a pittance, about ten million, and all that went into maintaining his grandmother Rosemary's lifestyle. It was her money rightfully, and she was entitled to live out her last years in comfort, but it meant that there would be barely anything left for her five children. The T'siens had been one of Singapore's largest landowners in the 1900s, but there was only one property left now—his grandmother's sprawling bungalow on Dalvey Road that was maybe worth thirty-five million, forty if the market ever recovered. Split five ways between her children, that meant his father would only inherit six or seven million at the most if the house was ever sold. Far, far less than what his parents were now in debt for.

For years, they had taken out loan after loan, and Oliver had spent his youth living the life of a rich man's son, sent abroad to the best schools money could buy—from Le Rosey to Oxford. But after the Barings crash, he found himself in the unthinkable position of having to work for a living. Oliver had always existed among the world's point-one percent crowd, and very few people understood the special hell of having to live in a world where every single person around you was staggeringly rich but you were not.

No one knew the degrees of subterfuge he took to keep up appearances for the sake of his family and career. There were the ballooning interest payments on all their bank loans. There were ten credit cards that he had to play Russian roulette with month after month. There were the mortgages on his parents'
hutong
in Beijing, his flat in London, and the condo in Singapore. Last year had been the worst, when his mother had been forced to sell off the legendary T'sien jade brooch along with other family heirlooms in order to pay for unexpected medical expenses. The bills kept coming, and they were endless. And now Kitty was threatening to renege on her gargantuan decorating bills—bills he had signed off on. If he couldn't work a miracle and get Kitty her title, he knew his whole life, his family, his career, his reputation—all would come crashing down.

TYERSALL PARK, SINGAPORE

Walking in to lunch the next day, Nick and Rachel found that the dining room had been transformed into a makeshift situation room. Rolling bulletin boards had been placed around the room, and the dining table was lined with stacks of documents and various brochures, and seven or eight young staffers huddled over spreadsheets on their laptops.

Ah Ling entered with another package that had just arrived and noticed the baffled couple. “Oh, Nicky, lunch is being served on the terrace today.”

“Um…who are these people?” Nick whispered.

“They're from Uncle Harry's office. They're helping out with all the house offers,” Ah Ling responded, giving Nick a look that clearly registered her disapproval.

Nick and Rachel went out to the terrace to find a much smaller gathering of relatives. The Aakaras had flown back to Bangkok earlier in the morning, while most of the Chengs had left the day before. The only out-of-town guests that remained were Alix and Alistair, since they were both shareholders in the property.

While Nick and Rachel stood by the buffet table arrayed with different dishes, Victoria spoke up as she looked over a prospectus. “This offer from the Far East people is an insult! Two point five billion, paid out over five years. Do they think we fell off the turnip truck yesterday?”

“Let's not even bother responding,” Alix declared. She looked up as Nick and Rachel sat down at the wrought-iron table with their lunch plates. “Nicky, do you have any idea what time your father will be here? We have so much to go over with him.”

“Dad's back in Sydney.”

“What? When did he leave?”

“Last night. Didn't he tell you he was heading home?”

“Yes, but we assumed he would have changed his plans now that the offers are flooding in. Ugggh! That irresponsible boy! We're in the midst of a bidding war, and he
knows
we can't make any moves without him,” Felicity huffed.

“Dad's become quite set in his ways, and he really missed the coffee from this café he goes to every morning in Rose Bay,” Nick tried explaining.

“There are billions of dollars at stake here and he's complaining about the coffee? As if Folgers Crystals here aren't good enough for him!” Victoria scoffed.

Rachel jumped into the conversation. “Some people really can't function without their coffee. In New York, I have to grab my usual cup at Joe Coffee on the way to work or I won't be able to get through the morning.”

“I'll never understand you coffee people.” Victoria tut-tutted as she carefully stirred her cup of tea made from
GFBOP
^*
Orthodox leaves she had flown in every month from a special reserve estate in Tanzania.

“Call your father. Tell him we're in the middle of a heated bidding war and the house could be sold before the end of the week,” Felicity ordered.

Nick looked at his aunts in surprise. “Are you all really intending on selling Tyersall Park that quickly?”

“We need to close the deal while the wok is sizzling! It's almost Chinese New Year, and everyone is feeling particularly prosperous and bold right now. Do you know that our top bid now exceeds three billion?” Alix excitedly reported.

Nick raised his eyebrows. “Who is it from, and how will they ensure that they will preserve the house?”

Felicity laughed. “Come on, Nicky, no one is going to preserve this house. The developers are only interested in the land—they are going to tear it all down.”

Nick looked at Felicity in horror. “Wait a minute—how can they tear down the house? Isn't this a protected heritage property?”

Victoria shook her head. “If this was a Peranakan-style house, or a colonial Black and White, maybe it would have heritage protection, but this house is such a mishmash of styles. It was built by some Dutch architect that the sultan who originally owned the place brought in from Malaysia. It's an architectural folly.”

“But of course, this is also what makes it so valuable. This is a freehold property with absolutely no heritage or zoning regulations. It's every developer's dream! Here, look at the leading proposal,” Alix said, handing Nick a glossy brochure.

Zion Estates
A LUXURY CHRISTIAN COMMUNITY

Imagine an exclusive gated community for high-net-worth families who share in the blessings of the Holy Spirit.

Ninety-nine splendid villas, inspired by the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, ranging from 5,000 to 15,000 square feet on half-acre lots will surround Galilee, a glorious artificial lagoon complete with the world's tallest man-made waterfall supplied only with water imported from the River Jordan. At the heart of the community lies the Twelve Apostles, a unique twelve-hole golf course designed by our faithful brother Tiger Woods, and an exquisite clubhouse—the King David—which will boast a trinity of world-class restaurants operated by Michelin-starred chefs, along with Jericho, sure to become Singapore's most decadent spa and state-of-the-art health club.

Come to Zion—live abundantly and be saved.

Nick looked up from the brochure in disbelief. “Are you seriously telling me that these people are the front-runners?
A luxury Christian community?
”

“Isn't it inspired? It's Rosalind Fung's company—your mother goes to her Christian Fellowship Banquets at the Fullerton. They've offered us $3.3 billion, and they will throw in a villa for each of us!” Victoria said breathlessly.

Nick was barely able to hide his disgust. “Auntie Victoria, in case you've forgotten, Jesus served the poor.”

“Of course he did. What's your point?”

Felicity chimed in. “Jesus said, ‘To grow rich is glorious.' ”

“Actually, Deng Xiaoping, the late Communist leader of China, said that!” Nick shot back. He got up from the table abruptly and said to Rachel, “Let's get out of here.”

As they got into Nick's father's vintage Jaguar XKE convertible and sped down the driveway, Nick turned to Rachel. “Sorry, I lost my appetite sitting there with my aunts. I just couldn't stand listening to them one minute longer.”

“Trust me, I get it. Where are we going?”

“I thought I'd take you to my favorite restaurant for a proper lunch—Sun Yik Noodles. It's a little café that's been around since the 1930s.”

“Fantastic! I was just starting to get hungry.”

Within fifteen minutes they had arrived in the Chinatown neighborhood, and after parking the car, they strolled down Club Street with its picturesque old shop houses toward Ann Siang Road as Nick began to fill Rachel in on the place.

“It's a total hole-in-the-wall, and they haven't even changed the Formica tables since the fifties, I bet. But they have the best noodles in Singapore, and so everyone comes here. The former chief justice of the Supreme Court used to eat lunch here every day, because the noodles were so addictive. You're gonna die when you taste these noodles. They are hand-pulled egg noodles, and they have this incredible, perfectly chewy texture to them. And they serve it with braised chicken that's been simmering for hours in this garlicky gravy. Oh man, the gravy! I wanna see if you think you can possibly replicate it. We're here after lunch rush, so we probably won't have to wait too long for a ta—”

Nick stopped dead in his tracks, staring at a façade across the road that had been covered by a metal construction fence.

“What's wrong?”

“This is it! Sun Yik Noodles! But where is it?”

They crossed the street and came to a small sign that was glued to the metal sheeting. It read:

TORY BURCH

Opening Summer 2015

Nick ran in to the shop next door, and Rachel could see him gesturing frantically to the baffled salesman inside. A few moments later, he came outside, his face registering nothing but shock.

“It's gone, Rachel. No more Sun Yik. This area has become so trendy, the original owner's son apparently sold the building for an insane amount of money and decided to retire. And now it's going to be a friggin' Tory Burch boutique.”

“I'm so sorry, Nick.”

“What the fuck!” Nick yelled, kicking the metal sheeting angrily. He sank down onto the pavement and covered his face with his hands despondently. Rachel had never seen him look quite so upset before. She sat down next to him on the pavement and put her arm around his shoulder. Nick sat there for a few minutes, staring off into space. After a while, he finally spoke.

“Everything I love about Singapore is gone. Or it's disappearing fast. Every time I'm back, more and more of my favorite haunts have closed or been torn down. Restaurants, shops, buildings, cemeteries, nothing is sacred anymore. The whole character of the island I knew growing up is almost completely obliterated.”

Rachel simply nodded.

“Sun Yik was such an institution, I thought it would always be safe. I mean, I swear to God,
they had the best noodles in the whole world
. Everyone loved it. But now it's gone forever, and we can never ever get that back.”

“I don't think people ever realize what they've lost until it's too late,” Rachel said.

Nick looked into her eyes with a sudden intensity. “Rachel, I have to save Tyersall Park. I can't let it be torn down and turned into some grotesque gated community that only allows in millionaire Christians.”

“I've been thinking the same thing.”

“I thought for a while that I would be okay with everything. I thought I wouldn't care if I didn't inherit the estate as long as someone in the family got it and maintained it properly. But now I know I'm not.”

“You know, I've been wondering all along if you were really okay with losing the house,” Rachel observed.

Nick considered what she'd said for a moment. “I think part of me always resented Tyersall Park in a subconscious way, because everyone always associated me with the house, and I could never detach from it when I was younger. I think that's why Colin and I became such good friends…I was always ‘the Tyersall Park Boy' and he was always ‘that Khoo Enterprises Boy.' But we were just
boys
.”

“It was like a curse in a way, wasn't it? It's amazing how you both managed not to let it define you,” Rachel remarked.

“Well, at some point I made my peace with it, and getting away also helped me appreciate it in a new light. I realized how much the place nurtured me, how I found my adventurous side climbing trees and building forts, and how spending all those hours in the library reading all my grandfather's old books—Winston Churchill's memoirs, Sun Yat-sen's letters—got me fascinated with history. But now it feels like I'm seeing my entire childhood sold off to the highest bidder.”

“I know, Nick. It's been so painful even for me to watch on the sidelines. I just can't believe how it's happening so quick, and how your aunts who also grew up in the house don't seem to care about letting it go.”

“Even though my grandmother's will clearly states what it does, I don't think she would have wanted Tyersall Park to be demolished and forgotten like this. To me, there are so many things that just don't add up with my grandmother's will and everything.”

“That's been my suspicion all along too, but I didn't feel like it was my place to say anything,” Rachel said with a frown.

“I wish I had more time to dig deeper, and figure out why my grandmother wanted the house sold off like this. But things are moving so fast with my aunties.”

“Wait a minute—your aunties can move as fast as they want, but you heard them yourself, nothing is going to happen without your father. And as far as I know, he's somewhere in Sydney sipping a well-made cappuccino. And how about Alistair? He's got a stake in all this too.”

“Hmm…come to think of it, Alistair hasn't been around the house much over the past few days, has he?” Nick said.

“If your father, Alistair, and you join forces, the three of you have enough votes to block any sale.”

Nick kissed Rachel excitedly and leapt up from the pavement. “You're brilliant, you know that?”

“I'm not sure that required much brilliance.”

“No, you're a genius, and you just gave me the best idea! Let's go call my dad!”