“That dress! You look like you’re in mourning!”
“It’s Jil Sander. I love it. I showed you a picture and you approved.”
“I don’t remember seeing a picture of this dress. I never would have approved it. You look like some spinster widow.”
“There’s no such thing as a spinster widow, Eddie. Spinsters are unmarried,” Fiona said drily.
“I don’t care. How can you look like death warmed over when the rest of us look so good? See how nice and colorful your children look,” he said, gesturing to the kids, who cowered in embarrassment.
“I will be wearing my diamond-and-jade necklace with it, and the jade art deco earrings.”
“It will still look like you are going to a funeral. We’re going to the wedding of the year, with kings and queens and some of the richest people in the world and all my relatives. I don’t want people thinking that I can’t afford to buy my wife a proper dress.”
“In the first place, Eddie, I bought it with my own money, since you never pay for my clothes. And this is one of the most expensive dresses I’ve ever bought.”
“Well, it doesn’t look expensive enough.”
“Eddie, you are always contradicting yourself,” Fiona said. “First you tell me you want me to dress more expensively like your cousin Astrid, but then you criticize everything I buy.”
“Well, I criticize you when you’re wearing something that looks so cheap. It’s a disgrace to me. It’s a disgrace to your children.”
Fiona shook her head in exasperation. “You don’t have any idea what looks cheap, Eddie. Like that shiny tux you’re wearing. That looks cheap. Especially when I can see the safety pins holding your pants on.”
“Nonsense. This tux was six thousand euros. Everyone can see how expensive the fabric is and how well tailored it is, especially when they fix it properly. The pins are temporary. I’m going to button the jacket for the pictures and no one will see them.”
The doorbell made an elaborate, symphonically excessive chime.
“That must be Russell Wing. Kalliste, take off your glasses. Fi, go and change your dress—now.”
“Why don’t you just go to my closet and pick out whatever you want me to wear?” Fiona said, not wanting to argue with him anymore.
At that moment, the celebrity photographer Russell Wing entered the living room.
“Look at you Chengs! Wah, gum laeng, ah!”† he said.
“Hello Russell,” Eddie said, smiling broadly. “Thank you, thank you, we only look stylish for you!”
“Fiona, you look stunning in that dress! Isn’t it Raf Simons for Jil Sander, from next season? How in the world did you get your hands on it? I just photographed Maggie Cheung in this dress last week for Vogue China.”
Fiona said nothing.
“Oh, I always make sure my wife has the very best, Russell. Come, come, have some of your favorite cognac before we begin. Um sai hak hei,”‡ Eddie said cheerily. He turned to Fiona and said, “Darling, where are your diamonds? Go and put on your beautiful art deco diamond-and-jade necklace and then Russell can start his photo shoot. We don’t want to take up too much of his time, do we?”
As Russell was taking some of the final shots of the Cheng family posed in front of the huge bronze sculpture of a Lipizzan stallion in the front foyer, another worrying thought entered Eddie’s head. As soon as Russell was out the door with his camera equipment and a gift bottle of Camus Cognac, Eddie called his sister Cecilia.
“Cecilia, what colors will you and Tony be wearing at Colin’s wedding ball?”
“Nay gong mut yeah?”§
“The color of your dress, Cecilia. The one you’re wearing to the ball.”
“The color of my dress? How should I know? The wedding is a week away—I haven’t begun to think about what I’m going to wear, Eddie.”
“You didn’t buy a new dress for the wedding?” Eddie was incredulous.
“No, why should I?”
“I can’t believe it! What is Tony going to wear?”