as she now insisted on being called—had indeed arrived.
* * *
*1 Oliver T’sien—one of Christie’s most highly valued deputy chairmen—has long-standing relationships with many of the world’s top collectors. (Being related to practically every important family in Asia didn’t hurt.)
*2 Cantonese for “So rotten I could die!”
*3 The authenticity of the painting was later questioned, and the buyer retracted the bid. (They probably realized it wouldn’t match their sofa.)
*4 Hokkien for “Are you out of your mind?”
2
CUPERTINO, CALIFORNIA
FEBRUARY 9, 2013—CHINESE NEW YEAR’S EVE
“The boys are back from their football game. Steer clear of Jason—he’s going to be one giant sweat rag,” Samantha Chu warned her cousin Rachel as soon as she heard the boisterous echoes coming from the garage. The two of them were perched on wooden stools in the kitchen of Rachel’s uncle Walt and auntie Jin, making dumplings for the Chinese New Year’s Eve feast.
Samantha’s twenty-one-year-old brother came bursting through the screen door ahead of Nicholas Young. “We made the Lin brothers eat dirt!” Jason triumphantly announced, grabbing two Gatorades from the fridge and tossing one to Nick. “Hey, where did the parentals go? I expected to find more hysterical aunties fighting over kitchen counter space.”
“Dad’s picking up Great-auntie Louise from the retirement home, and Mom, Auntie Flora, and Auntie Kerry went to 99 Ranch,” Samantha reported.
“Again? Glad I didn’t get roped into driving them this time—that place is always so packed with fobbies,*1 the parking lot looks like a Toyota dealership! What did they run out of this time?” Jason asked.
“Everything. Uncle Ray called—he’s bringing the whole family after all, and you know how much those boys can eat,” Samantha said as she scooped some minced-pork-and-chive filling onto a dough wrapper and handed it off to Rachel.
“Get ready, Jase—I’m sure Auntie Belinda’s going to say something about your new tattoo,” Rachel teased as she folded little pleats on the top of the dumpling and molded it into a perfect crescent shape.
“Who’s Auntie Belinda?” Nick inquired.
Jason made a face. “Dude! You haven’t met her yet, have you? She’s Uncle Ray’s wife. Uncle Ray is this megabucks oral surgeon, and they have this huge McMansion in Menlo Park, so Auntie Belinda acts like she’s the Queen of Downtown Abbey. She’s insanely uptight, and every year she drives Mom nuts by waiting till the very last minute to decide whether she and her spoiled-rotten kids will grace us with their presence.”
“It’s Downton Abbey, Jase,” Samantha corrected. “And come on, she’s not that bad. She’s just from Vancouver, that’s all.”
“You mean Hongcouver,” Jason retorted, tossing his empty bottle from across the kitchen into the oversized Bed Bath and Beyond plastic bag on the pantry door that served as the recycling bin. “Auntie Belinda’s going to love you Nick, especially when she hears you speak like that dude from Notting Hill!”
By six thirty, twenty-two members of the extended Chu clan had arrived at the house. Most of the older uncles and aunties sat around the big rosewood dining table that was covered in thick protective plastic sheeting, while the younger adults sat with the children at three folding mah-jongg tables that spilled out into the living room. (The teens and college-age Chus were spread out in front of the big-screen television in the den watching basketball and gobbling down fried pot stickers by the dozen.)
As the aunties began bringing out the heaping platters of roast duck, jumbo shrimp deep fried in batter, steamed kai-lan with black mushrooms, and Chinese long-life noodles with barbecued pork and scallops, Auntie Jin looked around at the gathered crowd. “Ray is still not here? We’re not waiting any longer or the food will get cold!”
“Auntie Belinda is probably still trying to decide which Chanel dress to wear,” Samantha quipped.
Just then the doorbell rang, and Ray and Belinda Chu swept into the house with their four teenage sons, all sporting Ralph Lauren polo shirts in different hues. Belinda wore high-waisted cream silk trousers, an iridescent orange blouse with billowing organza sleeves, her trademark Chanel gold belt, and a pair of oversize champagne pearl earrings more appropriate for the opening night of the San Francisco Opera.
“Happy New Year, everyone!” Uncle Ray announced jovially as he presented his eldest brother, Walt, with a big box of Japanese pears, while his wife ceremoniously handed Auntie Jin a covered Le Creuset dish. “Would you mind warming this up for me in the oven? Just 115 degrees for twenty minutes.”
“Hiyah, you didn’t have to bring anything,” Auntie Jin said.