“I just wanted you to know what I know. It’s part of my new ‘full disclosure policy,’?” Nick had said with a smile.
“Ha—thanks! Well, I’m a lot more comfortable navigating around the Richie Rich crowd, thanks to you. I’ve already gone through a baptism of fire with your family. Don’t you think I’m ready for anything now?”
“You survived my mother—I think everything else from here on out is a piece of cake,” Nick h
ad laughed. “I just want you to be fully aware of what you’re getting yourself into this time.”
Rachel had given him a thoughtful look. “You know, I’m really going to try to approach this with no illusions—I know it’ll take a while to get to know my new family. I imagine it’s just as much of a shock for my brother and my stepmother as it is for me. They probably have issues out the wazoo about all this, and I’m not expecting to bond with them overnight. It’s enough for me to know they exist and to meet them.”
Now that they were actually on Chinese soil, Nick could sense that Rachel wasn’t feeling as laid-back as she had been in Santa Barbara. He could feel her nervous energy even as she lay nestled against him on the sofa, both of them trying to battle through their jet lag. Even though she tried to play it cool, Nick knew how much she longed to be accepted by this newfound family of hers. He had grown up rooted in a long-established lineage: The hallways of Tyersall Park had always been hung with ancestral portraits in ancient rosewood frames, and in the library, Nick had spent many a rainy afternoon paging through volumes of hand-bound books containing intricate family trees. The Youngs had documented their ancestors going all the way back to AD 432, and it was all there in the brittle, brown pages of these ancient tomes. He wondered what it was like for Rachel to grow up not knowing a thing about her father, about the other half of her family. A soft buzz interrupted his thoughts.
“I think someone’s at the door,” Rachel said with a yawn, as Nick got up reluctantly to open it.
“Delivery for Ms. Chu,” the green-uniformed bellman said cheerily. He entered the suite pulling a luggage cart groaning with stacks of immaculately wrapped boxes. Behind him was another bellboy with a second luggage cart packed full of cartons.
“What’s all this?” Nick asked. The bellboy smiled and handed over an envelope. Scrawled on a plush creamy note card was: “Welcome to Shanghai! Thought you could use some essentials. Cheers, C.”
“It’s from Carlton!” Rachel exclaimed in surprise. She opened the first box and found four different jams nestled against the packing hay: Seville Orange Marmalade, Redcurrant Jelly, Nectarine Compote, Lemon and Ginger Curd. Stamped on the minimalist glass jars in elegant white type were the words DAYLESFORD ORGANIC.
“Oh! Daylesford is an organic farm in Gloucestershire owned by my friends the Bamfords. They make the most glorious foods. Are all the boxes from them?” Nick asked, duly impressed.
Rachel opened another carton and found it full of bottles of Sparkling Apple and Bilberry Juice. “Who’s even heard of bilberries?” she remarked. As the two of them dove into the boxes, they discovered that Carlton had for all intents and purposes supplied them with Daylesford’s entire product line. There were crackers with sea salt, shortbreads, and biscuits of dizzying variety to go along with the fine cheeses, farmed Shetland Isles Smoked Salmon, and exotic chutneys. And there were sparkling wines, cabernet francs, and bottles of whole milk to wash it all down.
Rachel stood amid the open boxes in astonishment. “Can you believe all this? There’s enough stuff here to last us for a year.”
“Whatever we can’t eat we’ll save for the zombie apocalypse. I must say Carlton seems to be a rather generous fellow.”
“That’s putting it mildly! What a sweet welcome gift—I can’t wait to meet him!” Rachel said excitedly.
“Judging by his taste, I think I’m going to like him. Now, what should we try first? The white-chocolate-dipped lemon biscuits or the chocolate-dipped ginger biscuits?”
BAO RESIDENCE, SHANGHAI
EARLIER THAT MORNING
Gaoliang was on his way upstairs to shower after his morning jog when he encountered two maids coming down with several pieces of black-and-tan Tramontano luggage.
“Whose bags are those?” he asked one of the maids.
“Mrs. Bao’s, sir,” the girl replied, not daring to make eye contact with him.
“Where are you taking them?”
“Just out to the car, sir. They are for Mrs. Bao’s trip.”
Gaoliang headed into his bedroom, where he found his wife seated at her dressing table putting on a pair of opal-and-diamond earrings.
“Where are you off to?” he asked.
“Hong Kong.”
“I didn’t know you had a trip planned today.”
“It’s a last-minute thing—there are some problems at the Tsuen Wan factories I need to sort out,” Shaoyen replied.
“But Rachel and her husband are arriving today.”
“Oh, was that today?” Shaoyen said.