tour. But first, drinks! What libation can we tempt you with? I’m sure Carlton will have his usual tumbler of vodka, and I think I’ll have a Campari and soda to match my dress. Rachel, do you feel like a Bellini?”
“Um, sure, only if it’s not too much trouble,” Rachel said.
“Not at all! We always have fresh white peaches for our Bellinis, don’t we, Wolseley? Nick, what will it be?”
“I’ll have a gin and tonic.”
“Ugh, the boys are so boring.” Colette rolled her eyes at Wolseley. “Come, follow me. Did Carlton explain to you my whole concept for this house?”
“We heard that you liked some hotel in Shanghai—” Rachel began.
“Yes, the Puli—but I’ve made this house even more luxurious. We used precious materials that you just wouldn’t want to use in a public space like a hotel. I know many people have this impression that everyone in China lives in tacky Louis XIV mansions where everything is dipped in gold and it looks like a tassel factory exploded, so I wanted this house to be a showplace for the best of contemporary China. Every piece of furniture you see in this grand salon was custom-designed and handcrafted here by our finest designers, in the rarest materials. And of course, all the antiques are museum quality. The scrolls on the walls are by Wu Boli, from the fourteenth century, and that Ming dynasty wine cup over there? I bought it from a dealer in Xi’an two years ago for six hundred thousand—the curator from the St. Louis Museum just offered me fifteen million for it. As if I would ever sell!” Rachel stared at the small porcelain bowl painted with chickens, trying to believe it was worth a hundred times her annual salary.
The group stepped out into the back courtyard, which was dominated by another vast reflecting pool. Colette led them along a covered walkway as a haunting New Agey song played softly on hidden outdoor speakers. “The pride of this estate is my greenhouse—the most important thing you should know is that this whole property is one hundred percent certified green—all the roofs have solar paneling, and all the reflecting pools actually flow into a state-of-the-art aquaponics system.”
The four of them entered a futuristic glass-roofed structure that was blindingly lit and lined with alternating rows of fish tanks and vegetable patches. “All the water gets channeled into the tanks, where we farm fish for eating, and then the nutrient-rich water fertilizes the organic vegetables grown here. See, I’m not just green—I’m emerald green!” Colette proudly informed them.
“Okay, I’m officially impressed!” Nick said.
Crossing the central courtyard again, Colette continued to explain. “Even though the buildings are modern in style, there are eight interconnected pavilions arranged in an Emperor’s Throne formation to ensure proper feng shui. Everybody STOP!”
They stopped dead in their tracks.
“Now breathe in the air. Can’t you just feel the good chi flowing everywhere?”
Nick could only detect a faint scent that reminded him of Febreze, but he nodded along with Rachel and Carlton.
Colette put her hands in the namaskara position and beamed. “Here we come to the entertainment pavilion. The wine cellar takes up the entire lower level—it was specially designed for us by the Taittinger people, and this is the screening room.” Rachel and Nick poked their heads into a cinema where there were fifty ergonomic Swedish recliners arranged in stadium-style seating.
“Do you see what’s hiding at the back?” Carlton asked.
Rachel and Nick stepped into the room and discovered that the entire back area of the screening room under the projector booth contained a slick sushi bar that looked like it had been transplanted straight from Tokyo’s Roppongi district. A sushi chef in a black kimono bowed at them while his young apprentice sat at the bar carving radishes into cute little kitten faces.
“Get. Out. Of. Town!” Rachel exclaimed.
“And we thought we were being extravagant ordering in from Blue Ribbon Sushi on Survivor Wednesdays,” Nick quipped.
“Did you see the documentary about the greatest sushi master in the world—Jiro Dreams of Sushi?” Colette asked.
“Oh my God—don’t tell me that guy is one of his sons!” Rachel gaped in awe at the sushi chef as he stood behind the blond-wood counter massaging an octopus.
“No, that’s Jiro’s second cousin!” Colette said excitedly.
From there, the tour continued to the guest wing, where Colette showed off bedroom suites more sumptuous than any five-star hotel (“We only allow our guests to sleep on Hästens*2 mattresses stuffed with the finest Swedish horsehair”), and then into her