parking at Mandarin Hotel would have been a nightmare and she would have had to valet her Jaguar for $15. Which she would RATHER DIE than do.)
*2 No English words can properly do justice to this charming Hokkien term, which is used to describe people who are equal parts bitchy, unreasonable, stuck up, and impossible to deal with.
*3 Hokkien for “stinky low-class gangster.”
12
ARCADIA
MONTECITO, CALIFORNIA
The late-afternoon sun hovered over the crest of the Santa Ynez Mountains, suffusing everything in a golden haze. The bamboo trellis had been fully restored to its former glory, creating a luxuriant canopy of hanging wisteria and jasmine over the central aisle, its delicately sweet scent wafting across the guests as they took their seats on the portico. With a neoclassical music pavilion carved from Tuscan stone as a backdrop and towering two-hundred-year-old oaks framing the gardens, the scene looked like something straight out of a Maxfield Parrish painting.
At the appointed moment, Nick emerged from the pavilion with his best man, Colin, and took his place beside an arch majestically radiating with white dendrobium orchids. He surveyed the hundred or so guests, noticing that his father—just arrived from Sydney and wearing an extremely rumpled gray suit—was seated next to Astrid, while his mother was a row behind gossiping with Araminta, who had minutes ago caused a stir when she entered the portico in a show-stopping emerald green Giambattista Valli gown with a deconstructed-ruffle neckline that plunged all the way down to her navel.
“Don’t fidget!” Astrid mouthed from the front row as Nick fussed nervously with his cuff links. She couldn’t help but recall the skinny boy in soccer shorts who used to run around with her in the gardens of Tyersall Park, scaling trees and jumping into ponds. They were forever inventing games and getting lost in fantasy worlds, Nicky always the Peter Pan to her Wendy, but now here he was, all grown up and looking utterly dashing in his celestial blue Henry Poole tuxedo, ready to create his own new world with Rachel. There would be great trouble to come once their grandmother found out about the wedding, but at least for tonight, Nicky was getting to marry the girl of his dreams.
The wall of French doors at the front of the pavilion opened, and from inside a musician on a grand piano began to play a vaguely familiar melody as Rachel’s bridesmaids—Peik Lin, Samantha, and Sylvia, in pearl gray bias-cut silk dresses—began the procession up the aisle. Auntie Belinda, in a gold lamé St. John gown with matching bolero top, suddenly recognized that the pianist was playing Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” and began to sob uncontrollably into her Chanel handkerchief. Uncle Ray, mystified by his wife’s behavior, pretended not to notice and stared straight ahead, while Auntie Jin turned around and glared at her. “Sorry…sorry…Stevie just gets me every time,” Belinda whispered, trying to collect herself.
After the pianist had finished, another surprise awaited the crowd as the lights inside the pavilion dimmed and a scrim hanging above the building came down, revealing a full ensemble of musicians from the San Francisco Symphony on the roof. The conductor raised his baton, and as the delicate opening strains of Aaron Copland’s “Appalachian Spring” began to fill the air, Rachel appeared at the steps of the portico on the arm of her uncle Walt.
The wedding guests murmured in approval at the bride, who looked stunning in a figure-hugging gown of silk crepe de chine with delicate knife pleats that fanned out over the fitted bodice and a column skirt that draped across the front in romantic cascading folds. With her long, luxuriant hair worn down in loose curls and pinned on the sides with a pair of feather-shaped art deco diamond clips, she was the epitome of a relaxed, modern bride with just a touch of 1930s Hollywood glamour.
Rachel clutched her bouquet of long-stemmed white tulips and calla lilies, smiling at all the people she knew. Then she caught sight of her mother seated in the front row next to Bao Gaoliang. She had of course insisted that Uncle Walt, who had always been the closest thing to a paternal figure, walk her down the aisle, but seeing her mother and father together like this stirred up a whole new set of emotions.
Her parents were here. Her parents. She realized that this was the first time in her life that she could actually use that term properly, and her eyes began to well up. There goes that hour