Stoker and Amanda’s. Will you be at Chatsworth too?” And that’s all it took. Suddenly the tai tais could not leave me alone.
CW: I bet they couldn’t!
ALT: Hong Kong women fascinate me. The style here really is so different than in Singapore. It’s a studied opulence that’s just breathtaking to behold. I don’t think I’ve seen SO MUCH jewelry in one room at one time. Truly felt like the Russian Revolution, when all the aristocrats were fleeing the country with every piece of jewelry they had, some sewn into their clothing.
CW: They really piled it on, didn’t they? What did you think of all those tiaras?
ALT: I don’t think a woman should wear a tiara unless it’s been in her family for several generations.
CW: Not sure if you look at our gossip columns, but there is this fool named Leonardo Lai…
ALT: Haha, yes! My cousin Cecilia just sent me the article.
CW: Leonardo obviously had NO CLUE who you were and couldn’t even get your name right, but he’s apparently concerned that you don’t have enough jewelry. LOL!
ALT: I’m so glad he misspelled my name! Mum would be furious to see me in the gossip columns. I guess Leonardo wasn’t impressed by pieces from the actual Imperial collection—my earrings used to belong to Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna.
CW: Of course they did. I noticed them immediately—they looked like something I would have bought you back in our London days, from that little vintage jewelry shop in the Burlington Arcade that you loved poking around in. You were the best-dressed woman at the ball, no contest.
ALT: You’re too sweet. But come on, I did not go all out like some of those Hong Kong fashionistas who wore specially commissioned gowns in the style of Catherine the Great or whomever.
CW: You’ve always dressed to please yourself—that’s precisely why you looked great. You and Kitty Pong, of course.
ALT: You’re funny. I actually thought she looked fantastic! Her dress was very Josephine Baker.
CW: She was naked except for all those feathers and emeralds.
ALT: The dress worked. But stealing the spotlight from Francis Poon was rather shameless. I was afraid poor old Francis was going to have a heart attack when she rushed onstage and grabbed the microphone from him while he was trying to make his speech!
CW: Ada Poon should have jumped up and slapped Kitty Pong just like any good third wife would.
ALT: She was too weighed down by all that jewelry to do any jumping.
CW: I really do wonder what’s happened to Bernard Tai. Why is Kitty everywhere but he’s not? Is he even still alive?
ALT: She’s probably got him chained up in a dungeon somewhere with a ball gag in his mouth!
CW: Astrid Leong! You shock me!
ALT: Sorry, I’ve been reading too much Marquis de Sade lately. Dare I ask where YOUR wife was? Am I ever going to meet the legendary Isabel Wu?
CW: Isabel is too snotty to go to events like these. She only goes to two or three of the old-guard balls every year.
ALT: LOL! Old-guard balls. I don’t even want to tell you what just came into my head!
CW: Why you still fly commercial I’ll never understand.
ALT: We’re Leongs, that’s why. My dad thinks it would be shameful if the family is seen flying private since he is a “public servant.” And he claims it’s far safer in a big commercial airliner than in a small one.
CW: I think it’s much safer on your own plane, with a dedicated ground crew. You get there in half the time and feel less jet lag.
ALT: I don’t ever get jet lag, remember? Also, we don’t have Charlie Wu $$$.
CW: That’s a funny one! You Leongs could buy me for breakfast any day. Anyway, have a good flight.
ALT: Nice chatting. Next time we’re in HK, I promise I’ll give you more notice.
CW: Okay.
ALT: Michael and I will take you to dinner. There’s this great Teochew place in Hutchison House that my cousin keeps telling me about.
CW: No, no, no—my town, my treat.
ALT: We’ll fight about it later. xo.
Charlie logged off his computer and swiveled his chair around to face the window. From his office on the fifty-fifth floor of Wuthering Towers he had a sweeping view of the harbor and could see every eastbound flight that departed out of Hong Kong International Airport. He stared into the horizon, scanning each plane that was taking off, searching for Astrid’s. I