The Scottish Banker of Surabaya - By Ian Hamilton Page 0,112

to eat?”

“They have siu mai with pork and black truffles that I love, and they do a deep-fried green chili with garlic and soy sauce that’s great.”

Ava ticked those boxes on the dim sum order sheet and then added crispy diced codfish, a shrimp dumpling with chives and mushrooms, and a dumpling stuffed with barramundi, thousand-year egg, and cilantro. She handed it to the waiter and then looked across the table at Amanda. “I’m not used to seeing you dressed quite so plainly.”

“I decided to abandon my Hong Kong princess look — not entirely, of course, but at least most workdays. My father’s office is rather mundane and I got tired of looking out of place.”

“Well, it suits you. You look so young and fresh, like a first-year student at the Polytech.”

“I’m not sure that’s quite the impression I want to make, but thank you anyway,” she said with a laugh.

Then Ava realized she hadn’t mentioned the wedding. “My God, Amanda, I’m sorry — I haven’t congratulated you yet.”

Amanda gave a little shrug. “All we did was fix the date.”

“Still, you’re going ahead with it.”

“Did you doubt that we would?” Amanda asked.

It was Ava’s turn to shrug. “I wasn’t sure . . . That was a traumatic experience you both went through, and things like that can change the way people look at their lives and each other.”

“You’re always so honest.”

“Not always.”

“Well, you’re right about it changing the way we view each other. Michael was always so sure of himself before, and Macau rattled him. Now he doesn’t take things so much for granted; he’s not so cocky. I kind of like that vulnerability in him. And as for me, I surprised even myself with how strong I was during that time. Michael saw that too, of course, and now he takes me a lot more seriously.”

The first wave of food arrived, and the talk idled as both Amanda and Ava plucked shrimp-and-chive dumplings from their bamboo nest. Ava slathered hers in red chili sauce while Amanda opted for the hot mustard.

“Is your father really ready to retire?” Ava asked. Her eyes wandered to the next table, where a diner was biting into a piece of puff pastry that even from a distance smelled disturbingly aromatic. “What is that dish?” she asked Amanda.

“The wagyu beef puff. It comes with a black-pepper sauce. We should have ordered it.”

“Not too late,” Ava said, waving at their waiter.

When he left, Ava turned back to Amanda. “I was asking about your father — is he ready to retire?”

Amanda looked slightly uncomfortable.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to poke my nose into family business,” said Ava.

“No, it’s not that,” Amanda said quickly. “It’s May Ling.”

“May Ling is involved with your business?”

“Not really, although she has been tremendously supportive over the past three months and has thrown all kinds of deals my way. It’s more that she wants me to leave the family business and join her.”

“To do what?”

“She won’t say specifically.”

“You’re confusing me,” Ava said, biting into a slice of crispy cod.

“Maybe because I’m confused myself . . . Tell me, has May Ling discussed the possibility of you joining with her in some business ventures?”

“Yes, she’s been at it constantly, but I’ve put her off.”

“You have no interest?”

Ava hesitated as she saw Amanda’s eyes boring into her. How well did she really know this young woman? Not well enough to be completely forthcoming. “Amanda, after Macau I took a break from my own business. I’m on a job now but I was sort of tricked into it. The truth is, I don’t know if I want to keep doing this thing. That’s what I spent the summer trying to figure out, and I’m no closer to making a decision in September than I was in July. If I do decide I’ve had enough, then I have to make another decision, about what it is I want to do instead. And God knows how long that might take.”

“So you haven’t discounted the idea of working with May Ling.”

“That’s fair to say.”

Amanda poured tea for the two of them and Ava tapped her middle finger on the table in a silent thank-you. “I have to tell you, Ava, I do want to work with her,” Amanda blurted.

“What about your father and his business?”

“It’s a trading operation — just deal to deal. You can’t build any equity that way. It makes money, of course, and enough that my father could retire tomorrow. But then what? I do more of