Chapter 10

I know the family has money ... wouldn’t have been able to buy a hundred foot catamaran without it ... the same pile of cash would buy a hundred fifty foot monohull. Dinner out? Sure. Many times. Posh places? Uh huh. Sailing the world put me in exotic restaurants wherever we went. Our nanny would pick up a phone book ... find something interesting, and call for reservations.

“Party of four,” she would say. “Flintkote ... yes, 8:30.” She always included a credit card number...”In case we don’t make it.”

We always did ... sometimes to the consternation of the receptionist. Since we were ten when we started all the person behind the podium could see was three “children” in the company of a person who absolutely was NOT their mother.

Since we’d grown and were out on our own, Cyn always wanted to go places to see and be seen ... JW just rode her coat-tails. So, I’ve had meals ... excuse me ... dined ... with the best.

But nothing ... nothing prepared me for Ming.

Hong Kong has always been gaudy ... dragons and fireworks ... brilliant enamels and gold foil ... expressive silks adorn wives and concubines. The understated magnificence of Ming must be seen to understand.

Mr. Kwan impressed me ... the maître d’hôtel seated ... yes seated like a king or potentate ready to bless or curse the supplicants ... those peasants waiting to be noticed. Seated behind a massive walnut desk, he terrified rich men hoping to be seated without reservation.

The maître d’hôtel terrified me. He had the MOM look to perfection. In a glance, he cataloged my person to the penny, “tailored but off the shelf.”

The change in his expression when his eyes wandered past my hair...

“Winnie!”

“Arthur.”

“My Lord. The family table?”

“Unoccupied, Arthur?”

“Your cousin and her latest, my Lord.”

“That will do ... it’s too damn hard to get a reservation here.”

“Two years, my Lord. There’s been talk of taking over next door. We have the clientele ... and the lease is available. What made them think a comic book store would be profitable?”

Arthur handed two menus to a server, “The Royal Table, Amy.”

“Yes, sir. This way, if you please.”

British English was taught in Hong Kong schools right up until the change. The new people were determined to have only Cantonese teachers. That wasn’t too popular with the adults. Most young people were bi-lingual. Emigration was becoming more difficult as the brighter young were leaving to settle elsewhere. The new powers were cracking down.

But, here, in the Ming, the glory of Royal Hong Kong still existed. Evidence of The Company was present. Gilt ... excuse me ... huge hand carved gold foiled framed paintings of the Kings, Queens, Governors, Admirals, Generals and Factors from the present Elizabeth back to Victoria graced the walls. If the person was a mover and shaker of old Hong Kong their portrait hung in the Ming ... old hat to the regulars ... I was in awe.

The Royal Table was occupied by a woman girl unmistakably part of the Royal family ... and a sleazy looking man who stood as we approached. Oh ... I got the eye, alright. From the “gentleman” the look was lust. From the girl the look centered on my chest ... of which there was quite an expanse showing. I was certain if I bent over I’d spill out.

“Winnie,” she said.

“Vickie,” he said.

She had the look of curiosity.

“Miss Surprise Me Flintkote. My cousin Lady Victoria Windsor ... and...”

“Arturo Tosca ... of Montevideo, Uruguay,” said the fellow, giving her Ladyship no chance.

When Winnie introduced me to Lady Victoria, she gave a slight nod of the head. I followed suit ... I wasn’t bowing to anyone ... not in this dress.

Vickie quivered ... I’m sure she was trying to conceal a laugh. But I caught on the she understood.

Introductions concluded I turned to face Victoria, “I’m sure you’ve been in similar circumstance,” I said.

“Elizabeth ... my introduction to my cousin, the Queen. I ... umh ... parted company with my top. She’s never let me forget it.”

We both laughed at her look of chagrin. Suddenly we were Mel and Vickie and exchanging email and invitations to see the family boat ... hers and mine.

I wonder if JW has met my guests?