The Liechtenburg Group account, however, was the jewel in her crown. They managed the biggest chunk of her assets, and Peter D’Abo, her private banker, consistently provided her with the highest rate of return. At least once a year, Eleanor would find some excuse to come to London, where she relished her portfolio reviews with Peter. (It did not hurt that he resembled her favorite actor, Richard Chamberlain—around the time he was in The Thorn Birds—and on many an occasion Eleanor would sit across Peter’s highly polished macassar ebony desk and imagine him in a priest’s collar while he explained what ingenious new scheme he had put her money in.)

Eleanor checked her lipstick one last time in the tiny mirror of her Jim Thompson silk lipstick case as she waited in the reception lounge. She admired the huge glass vase filled with purple calla lilies, their bright green stems twisted into a tight spiral formation, and thought about how many British pounds to withdraw from her account on this trip. The Singapore dollar was on a weakening trend this week, so it would be better to spend more in pounds at the moment. Daisy had paid for lunch yesterday, and Lorena covered dinner, so it was her turn to treat today. The three of them had made a pact to take turns paying for everything on this trip, knowing how tight things were for poor Nadine.

The silver-edged double doors began to open, and Eleanor rose in anticipation. Instead of Peter D’Abo, however, a Chinese lady came walking out, accompanied by Eddie Cheng.

“My goodness, Auntie Elle! What are you doing here?” Eddie blurted out before he could stop himself.

Eleanor knew of course that her husband’s nephew worked for the Liechtenburg Group, but Eddie was head of the Hong Kong office, and never would she imagine running into him here. She had specifically opened her account at the London office so that she would never run the risk of bumping into anyone she might know. Turning scarlet in the face, she stammered, “Oh…oh, hi. I’m just meeting a friend for breakfast.” Aiyoh aiyoh aiyoh I’ve been caught!

“Ah, yes, breakfast,” Eddie replied, realizing the awkwardness of the situation. Well of course the crafty bitch would have an account with us.

“I got here two days ago. I’m here with Nadine Shaw—you know, visiting Francesca.” Now the whole damn family will know I have money stashed away in England.

“Ah yes, Francesca Shaw. Didn’t I hear she married some Arab?” Eddie asked politely. Ah Ma is always worried Uncle Philip doesn’t have enough to live on. Wait till she hears THIS!

“He’s an Iranian Jew, very handsome. They just moved into a flat at 2 Hyde Park,” Eleanor replied. Thank goodness he can never know my sixteen-digit account number.

“Wah—he must do very well,” Eddie said in mock awe. My God, I’m going to have to grill Peter D’Abo about her account, not that he’ll tell me anything—that stuffed shirt.