wandered through the elegantly proportioned rooms, Michael began to appreciate the place more and more. “I like how high the ceilings are on the ground floor.”
“It’s a bit creaky in places, but I know just the architect to help give this place a gentle restoration—he worked on my uncle Alfred’s place in Surrey and just redid Dumfries House in Scotland for the Prince of Wales,” Astrid said.
Standing in the living room, with sunlight flooding through the oriole windows and casting origami shadows onto the parquet wood floors, Michael was suddenly reminded of the drawing room at Tyersall Park and the feeling of unutterable awe that came over him the first time he entered that room to meet Astrid’s grandmother. He had originally envisioned his new house as something resembling the contemporary wing of a museum, but now he had another vision of himself in thirty years as a silver-haired eminence, presiding over this grand and historic showplace as business colleagues from all over the world came to pay their respects. He pounded his hand against one of the buttressed walls and said to Astrid, “I like all this old stonework. This house feels rock solid, not like your father’s rickety Black and White.”
“I’m glad you like it. It has a very different feel from my father’s place,” Astrid said measuredly.
It’s also bigger than your father’s house, Michael thought. He could already imagine what his brothers would say when they drove up: Wah lan eh, ji keng choo seeee baaay tua!*5 He turned to Carmen and asked, “So, what will it take to get the keys to the front door?”
Carmen considered his question for a moment. “On the open market, this house would go for sixty-five, seventy million, easily. You’d have to make a compelling enough offer for the family to stop the listing tomorrow morning.”
Michael stood at the top of the staircase and fingered the carved woodwork on the banister. Its art deco sunrays reminded him of the Chrysler building. “C. K. Wong had four children, right? I’ll offer seventy-four. This way every sibling gets an extra million for their trouble.”
“Let me just call my cousin Geik Choo,” Carmen said, reaching into her Saint Laurent handbag for her phone and walking discreetly out of the living room.
A few minutes later, she returned. “My cousin thanks you for the offer. But factoring in stamp duties and my commission, the family is going to need more. At eighty million, you have a deal.”
“I knew you were going to say that,” Michael said with a laugh. He looked over at Astrid and said, “Honey, how badly do you want this?”
Wait a minute—it’s you who wants to move, Astrid thought. Instead, she said, “I will be very happy in this house if you are.”
“Okay then, eighty it is.”
Carmen smiled. This was so much easier than she had imagined. She disappeared into a bedroom down the hallway again to call her cousin back.
“How much do you think it’s going to take to decorate this place?” Michael asked Astrid.
“Really depends on what we want to do. It reminds me of the sort of country houses you see in the Cotswolds, so I could picture some simple English pieces mixed with Geoffrey Bennison fabrics perhaps. I think it would go well with your historic artifacts and some of my Chinese antiques. And downstairs, maybe we can—”
“The entire downstairs is going to be converted into a state-of-the-art car museum for my collection,” Michael interrupted.
“All of it?”
“Of course. That’s the first thing I pictured when I walked in the front door. I was like, let’s tear all these reception rooms down and make it one vast hall. Then I could put car turntables into the floor. It will be so cool to see my cars revolving around between all those columns.”
Astrid looked at him, waiting for him to say, Just kidding, but then she realized he was dead serious. “If that’s what you want,” she finally managed to squeak out.
“Now, what is taking that friend of yours so long? Don’t tell me those Wongs are getting greedy and want to take me for another ride.”
Just then, Carmen reentered the room, looking rather flushed in the face. “I’m sorry—I hope I wasn’t shouting too loudly?”
“No. What happened?” Astrid asked.
“Er, I don’t quite know how to say this, but I’m afraid the house has been sold to someone else.”
“WHAAAT? I thought we had an exclusive first bid,” Michael said.
“I’m very sorry. I thought you did too. But my asshole cousin Quentin