hand, was down-to-earth compared to Colette. Nick had been forewarned by his mother that Carlton was “terribly spoiled,” but he was nothing if not impressed by his impeccable manners. He expertly picked out all the dishes, ordered a round of beers, and made sure everyone—especially the ladies—had plenty of food on their plates before placing any on his own.
“You must have the first pork and crabmeat dumpling,” Carlton said as he deftly placed one onto Rachel’s porcelain spoon. Rachel nibbled carefully on the side of her dumpling, slurping most of the flavorful broth inside before downing the rest of the succulent meat.
“Did you see that? Rachel eats her soup dumplings exactly like Carlton does!” Colette said excitedly.
“Score one for genetics!” Nick quipped. “Well, Rachel, what’s the verdict?”
“Oh my God, that’s the best xiao long bao I’ve ever had! The broth is so light and yet so intense. I can probably eat about a dozen of these—they’re like crack cocaine,” Rachel said.
“You must be famished,” Colette said.
“Actually we snacked a little earlier—which reminds me, Carlton, thank you so much for all the gifts!”
“Gifts? Not sure I know what you mean,” Carlton said.
“The boxes of food from Daylesford Organic?”
“Oh, that was from me!” Colette interjected.
“Really? Wow, thank you!” Rachel replied in surprise.
“Yes—when I heard that Carlton’s father had arranged for you to stay at a hotel at the very last minute, I thought, ‘Poor things! They’ll starve at the Peninsula! They are going to need provisions.’ ”
“So the hotel was a last-minute thing?” Nick inquired.
Colette pursed her lips, realizing she had made a slipup.
Carlton quickly came to the rescue. “Er…no…I mean, my father likes to plan things very far in advance, so this was rather last-minute by comparison. He wanted the two of you to have a special honeymoon treat.”
“So did you like the goodies I sent up?” Colette asked.
“Oh, very much. I especially love Daylesford’s marmalade,” Nick said.
“Me too—I’ve been addicted ever since my days at Heathfield,” Colette said.
“You were at Heathfield? I was at Stowe,” Nick said.
“Phwoar! I’m an Old Stoic too!” Carlton pounded the table excitedly.
“I guessed as much. Your blazer was a dead giveaway,” Nick said with a laugh.
“Which house were you in?” Carlton asked.
“Grenville.”
“This is too much of a coincidence! Who was the housemaster? Was it Fletcher?”
“Chitty. You can imagine our nickname for him.”
“Haha—brilliant! Did you play rugby or cricket?”
Colette rolled her eyes at Rachel. “I think we’ve lost the boys for the rest of the night.”
“Clearly. Nick’s like this when he gets together with his Singapore classmates too. A few more drinks and they’ll start singing that song about Old Man whatshisname.”*1
Carlton shifted his attention back to Rachel. “I’m being a terrible bore, aren’t I? I take it you went to school in the States?”
“Monta Vista High in Cupertino.”
“You’re so lucky!” Colette said. “I was shipped away to school in England by my parents, but I always dreamed of going to high school in America. I wanted to be just like Marissa Cooper.”
“Minus the car wreck, of course,” Carlton chimed in.*2
“Speaking of which, I’m glad to see how well you are after your accident,” Nick said.
Carlton’s face clouded over for a split second. “Thanks. You know, I must tell you how grateful I am to your mother. I don’t think I would have made such a quick recovery if I hadn’t done my rehab in Singapore, and of course, if it hadn’t been for your mum, none of us would have ever met.”
“Things have a strange way of working out, don’t they?” Nick said.
As if on cue, Colette’s personal assistant entered the room and announced, “Baptiste is here.”
“At last! Send him in,” Colette said excitedly.
“Baptiste is one of the top sommeliers in the world—he used to work at the Crillon in Paris,” Carlton whispered to Rachel, as a man with a handlebar mustache entered the dining room bearing a wine satchel with such ceremony, one might have thought he was carrying a royal baby to its baptismal font.
“Baptiste! Did you find the right bottle?” Colette asked.
“Yes, Château Lafite Rothschild from the Shanghai private reserve,” Baptiste replied, presenting the bottle to Colette for inspection.
“I usually prefer the even years for Bordeaux, but you’ll notice that I chose a very special year—1981. Isn’t that the year you were born, Rachel?”
“It sure is,” Rachel said, touched by Colette’s thoughtfulness.
“Allow me to make the first toast,” Colette said, raising her glass. “Here in China, it’s so rare for kids of our generation to have siblings. I have always dreamed of having