The Crazy Rich Asians Trilogy

Nick fidgeted with the remnant of his banana leaf nervously. Since he was old enough to remember, it had been ingrained into him that any talk of the family wealth was off-limits. But it was only fair that Rachel know what she was getting herself into, especially if he was (very shortly) going to ask her to accept the canary diamond ring hidden in the lower right pocket of his cargo shorts.

“I know this may sound silly, but the truth is I really don’t know how rich my family is,” Nick began tentatively. “Now, my parents live very well, mostly due to the legacy my mum received from her parents. And I have a private income that’s not too shabby, mainly from stocks left to me by my grandfather. But we don’t have the kind of money that Colin’s or Astrid’s family does, not even close.”

“But how about your grandmother? I mean, Peik Lin says that Tyersall Park must be worth hundreds of millions just for the land alone,” Rachel interjected.

“My grandmother has always lived in the manner that she has, so I can only presume that her holdings are substantial. Three times a year Mr. Tay, an elderly gentleman from the family bank, comes up to Tyersall Park in the same brown Peugeot he’s driven ever since I was born and pays a visit to my grandmother. She meets with him alone, and it’s the only time her lady’s maids have to leave the room. So it’s never crossed my mind to ask her how much she’s worth.”

“And your father never talked to you about it?”

“My father has never once brought up the subject of money—he probably knows even less than I do. You know, when there’s always been money in your life, it’s not something you spend much time thinking about.”

Rachel tried to wrap her mind around that concept. “So why does everyone think you’ll end up inheriting everything?”

Nick bristled. “This is Singapore, and the idle rich spend all their time gossiping about other people’s money. Who’s worth how much, who inherited how much, who sold their house for how much. But everything that’s said about my family is pure speculation. The point is, I’ve never presumed that I will one day be the sole inheritor of some great fortune.”

“But you must have known that you were different?” Rachel said.

“Well, I sensed that I was different because I lived in this big old house with all these rituals and traditions, but I never thought it had anything to do with money. When you’re a kid, you’re more concerned with how many pineapple tarts you’re allowed to eat or where to catch the best tadpoles. I didn’t grow up with a sense of entitlement like some of my cousins did. At least, I hope not.”

“I wouldn’t have been attracted to you if you went around acting like some pompous prick,” Rachel said. As they walked back to the car, she slipped her arm around his waist. “Thank you for opening up. I know it wasn’t easy for you to talk about these things.”

“I want you to know everything about me, Rachel. I always have, which is why I invited you here in the first place. I’m sorry if it has felt like I wasn’t forthcoming—I just didn’t think any of this money talk was relevant. I mean, in New York, none of this really matters to our life, does it?”

Rachel paused for a while before answering. “It doesn’t, especially now that I have a better understanding of your family. I just needed to be sure that you’re the same person I fell in love with back in New York, that’s all.”

“Am I?”

“You’re way cuter now that I know you’re loaded.”

Nick laughed and pulled Rachel tightly into his arms, giving her a long, lingering kiss.

“Ready for a complete change of scenery?” he asked, kissing her chin and then moving down to the tender spot on her throat.

“I think I’m ready to get a room. Any motels close by?” Rachel breathed, her fingers still entangled in his hair, not wanting him to stop.

“I don’t think there are any motels you’d want to be in. Let’s race to Cameron Highlands before it gets dark—it’s only about three hours away. And then we can pick up where we left off on the most ginormous four-poster bed you’ve ever seen.”

They made good time on the E1 highway, passing through the capital city of Kuala Lumpur toward Ipoh. When they reached the town of Tapah—the gateway to the Cameron Highlands—Nick turned onto the picturesque old road and they began the ascent up the mountain. The car climbed the steep hill, with Nick expertly negotiating the twists and turns, honking the horn at every blind curve.

Nick was anxious to get to the house before sunset. He had called ahead and given explicit instructions to Rajah, the majordomo. There were going to be votive candles in white paper bags lining the way down to the lookout point at the end of the lawn, and a stand with chilled champagne and fresh mangosteens right next to the carved wooden bench where they could sit and take in the scenic view. Then, just as the sun was sinking behind the hills and thousands of tropical birds descended into the treetops, he would get down on one knee and ask Rachel to be his forever. He wondered which was the correct knee to get down on? Right or left?

Rachel, meanwhile, found herself clutching at her seat-belt buckle tightly as she gazed out the window at sheer drops down into jungle-like ravines. “Uh, I’m in no hurry to die,” she announced anxiously.

“I’m only going forty miles per hour. Don’t worry, I can drive this road blindfolded—I used to come here almost every weekend during the summer holidays. Plus, don’t you think it would be a glamorous way to die—careening down the side of a mountain in a classic Jag convertible?” Nick cracked, trying to diffuse the tension.

“If it’s all right with you, I’d rather live a few days longer. Annnnd, I’d rather be in an old Ferrari, like James Dean,” Rachel quipped.

“Actually, it was a Porsche.”

“Smart-ass!”

The hairpin curves soon gave way to a breathtaking view of undulating green hills punctuated by bright swaths of color. In the distance, Rachel could make out flower orchards tucked along the hillsides and quaint little cottages.

“This is Bertam Valley,” Nick said with a flourish. “We’re about twelve hundred meters above sea level now. Back in the colonial days this was where British officers would come to escape the tropical heat.”

Just past the town of Tanah Rata, they turned onto a narrow private road that snaked its way up a lushly planted hill. Behind another curve, a stately Tudor-style manor house on its own hillock suddenly reared into view. “I thought you promised you weren’t going to take me to some luxury hotel,” Rachel said in a half-chiding tone.

“This isn’t a hotel, this is my grandmother’s summer lodge.”