Chapter 8

8

After her big reveal, Rochelle pauses, grinning, obviously savoring our astonished expressions.

“What?” I don’t even know who says that, maybe all of us. Maybe just me. Maybe just Annabelle, who’s staring at her friend like she doesn’t know who she is.

Rochelle gives a dramatic sigh, something that it seems to me everyone in Indonesia has mastered, and rolls her eyes. “When I came to your family’s celebration, I noticed the cavalcade out front. I mean, kind of hard not to notice that sort of thing, ya know? And so I knew that you had someone important there, and sure enough, once we were inside the house, I saw him.” She nods at Abi. “Abraham Lincoln Irawan, one of my grandpa’s archnemeses. Growing up, my grandpa was always telling us stories about how you and Julia Child Handoko can never be trusted, that you two are the dirtiest players in the entire business world.”

Abi snorts. “Hah! That’s your grandfather, not me.”

“Mhmm.” Rochelle shrugs, clearly unimpressed by his outburst. “So what’s a good, filial granddaughter to do when presented with such an opportunity? Of course I decided to hang around, see if I could learn any useful information. You think your family’s huge? Mine’s even bigger, and my cousins are so competitive. I need some way to prove to my grandpa that he should pass down his business to me, and I got it. I saw the gift baskets you had your people bring in to impress everyone. I noticed that one of the red packets was different from the others.” She taps her temple and winks at us. “Shows that I have amazing observational skills, right? I positioned myself to accept a red packet from you.” She nods at me. “You gave me one of the normal ones, which is fine. I just looked out for that special one and found the kid you gave it to and traded a couple of red packets for it, and voilà!”

“What?” we all cry out. My mind is swimming, caught in a storm of confusion. “But why?”

She shrugs. “It was obvious that whatever was in the red packet was special. I originally thought it would just contain more money, so no harm in getting it, right? But then it turned out it contained a title deed. I looked up the plot of land, by the way.” Her grin widens. “Nice spot. Right in the middle of the business district, within walking distance to the Agung Tower and the Fortnum Tower. I see now why it’s such a strategic plot of land.”

“You give that back to me now,” Abi hisses.

Rochelle lifts her chin. “You can’t bully me, old man. Especially not when you’re on my property. I’ll have you arrested.”

Abi’s hands tighten into fists. “You stole from me. That’s theft.”

“Uh, how is it theft when you guys gave it away? You literally gave it to some kid, and then I exchanged my red packet for his. There’s a business term for it? I think it’s called . . .” She knits her eyebrows and taps her chin. “Oh yeah, I think it’s called trading,” she says with a smirk.

Was I ever this insufferable as a teen? God, if I was, I owe Ma a world of apologies. My stomach roils with frustration as I take in Rochelle’s smarmy, victorious expression. I want to reach out and shake her, scream at her until she succumbs. Instead, I remind myself to calm the hell down. Clearly, trying to intimidate her isn’t working. So I need to try a different tack. As much as I hate this kid, I have to admit that she is smart. So maybe reasoning to her sense of logic would work better.

“That is really resourceful,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “If I were your grandfather, I would be very impressed.”

“Thank you.” She does a little curtsy.

“Um, but you see, the thing is, I’m kind of in a difficult situation because of it. That title deed was arranged to be given to someone very important and very powerful—”

“Duh.” She rolls her eyes, and I resist the urge to kick her in the neck. “I figured it was meant for Julia Child Handoko. Who else would it be given to? This is not rocket science, you guys. Which, by the way, I’m studying.”

Do I hate this kid or do I admire her? Is there a difference anymore? Does it matter? God, the situation and everyone involved is just so out there that I’m having a hard time putting together a single coherent thought. “Anyway, the problem is, you see, we went to Julia’s house to explain to her that the title deed went missing, and she, ah, she kind of kept my husband behind as a . . .” The word is so alien, so wrong, that it resists being said. I have to spit it out. “Hostage.” Tears rush into my eyes because saying it makes it so real. “My husband is innocent, he has nothing to do with any of this. We’re just visiting from California. We don’t even live here, we’ve never heard of any of these companies, we have nothing to do with your rivalries. He was trying to do the right thing, and now he’s literally locked in her house, and I need to get the title deed to her so she’ll set him free.”

By the time I finish talking, I’m breathing hard, feeling like I’ve just scooped out the innermost fears in my heart and displayed them to her. Would it be enough? Would it sway her? Unlike Ma and the aunties and Abi, I haven’t threatened or cajoled or tried to trick her into giving the title deed back. I’ve just used honesty, and sincerity, and I was vulnerable and—

“Wow, sucks to be you. I wish I could help, but . . .” She throws up her hands and shrugs her shoulders. “Sorry.”

It’s the least sorry of all sorries. Something inside me breaks. The cruelty of her. I can’t believe it. I take a step forward, unsure what I’m about to do, when there’s a bloodcurdling wail and Ma charges past me. “Ma, wha—”

The aunties follow her a split second later, rushing at Rochelle like a hurricane. Rochelle’s eyes widen, and she has time to say, “What the f—” before they slam into her.

“Hold her arms!” Fourth Aunt yells.

“Oh my god, oh my god—” Again, I have no idea if it’s me or Annabelle or Abi saying this. The three of us stare in horror as my mother and aunts physically accost Rochelle in the most awkward, arm-flailing struggle imaginable.

“Ah!” Second Aunt yelps as Rochelle knocks her hair askew. “This girl. So rude!”

Noises come from inside the house. I hear a man saying, “What’s going on?”

“We gotta go!” I cry.

Somehow, in the confusion, Big Aunt jumps up and rips the title deed out of Rochelle’s hand.

“Hey, give it back!” Rochelle shouts, but Ma and the aunties dash away. I grab Annabelle’s wrist and tug, and we all run away from the house and clamber into Abi’s waiting minivan.

“Drive,” Abi barks at the chauffeur before we can even close the doors. It disturbs me that the chauffeur doesn’t even seem shocked. He even—I notice belatedly—turned the car around while we were talking to Rochelle so he didn’t have to back out of the driveway. The car zooms forward and I fall into Fourth Aunt’s lap. I scramble to an empty seat and clutch fearfully at the handhold as the car speeds onto the road. I twist in my seat and look out the rear window to see Rochelle and a group of people running after us, shouting.

Never mind my heart racing, it feels as though my entire body is vibrating with electricity. I stare, wide-eyed, at my family, all of whom are looking somewhat shaken. Poor Annabelle is going, “Holy crap, holy crap, hoooly crap!” like she’s stuck in a loop. My heart goes out to her. This is her first encounter with my mother and aunts.

Speaking of which, Ma and the aunties are quickly regaining their composure. As soon as we’re out on the main road, they lean back in their seats and each and every one of them focuses on smoothing down her hair. Well, I say smoothing down, but really they’re puffing it back up, because god forbid their exertions put a dent in their big, poofy hairstyles. Meanwhile, Abi is sitting up front and furiously typing on his phone. Okay, so I guess I’m going to have to be the one who brings up the obvious.

“What the hell was that?”

Ma and the aunties look up. Annabelle stops muttering “Holy crap.”

“What you talking, Meddy?” Ma says.

I flail my arms, the words refusing to come out for a moment because of the sheer ridiculousness. “You guys just—you assaulted a teenager!”

They all gape at me like I’ve just told them that they’ve each grown an extra head on their necks. After a beat, Big Aunt says, “What is this, assaulted? Like, salting something? Pouring salt on wound, that kind of saying?”

“No. Like, uh . . .” Damn it, what’s the proper definition of “assault”? “Like, attacked. Physically. You physically attacked a kid!”

There’s another shocked silence, then they all, as one, start cackling. Poor Annabelle shrinks away from them, terror written across her face. I do not blame her one bit.

“It’s not funny,” I call out, raising my voice to be heard over their laughter. “If we were in the States, she could press charges. I mean, I’m pretty sure we’d be arrested. I don’t know what the laws are here, but—”

“She’s not going to report it to the police,” Abi says from the front.

“How are you so sure?”

“Because of who she is.”

Ice prickles down my arms, making my skin break out in gooseflesh. “Right, because she’s the granddaughter of a mafia family who happens to be your bitter rival.”

“No, I told you before, there is no such thing as mafias or crime syndicates here,” Abi snorts. “We’re all law—”

“Law-abiding citizens, right,” I mutter. “Law-abiding citizens who don’t report anything to the police. Okay. I see.” I glare at Ma and the aunties. “Great, so you got lucky because the person you assaulted happened to be the grandchild of totally-not-mafia, so she won’t be reporting you to the police. But still, that was crazy, what you did. You could’ve hurt her.”

“Hah!” Big Aunt barks, slamming her palm down on the armrest, suddenly looking furious. “Then maybe it make her think twice next time about being so rude to her elders.”

Second Aunt, Ma, and Fourth Aunt all nod vehemently.

“She was bad egg, so bad,” Second Aunt agrees. Great, of course the one time Second Aunt agrees with Big Aunt, it’s over this. “She need to be taught lesson.”

“Yes, her parents do bad job raising her, you know,” Ma adds. “I always raise you to respect your elder, ya kan? Ya?” She glares at me.

“Um, well, yeah, but—”

“Let’s face it, she was a smug little shit who deserved taking down a peg or two,” Fourth Aunt says, with zero remorse.

“Fourth Aunt!”

Ma nods, because of course they are all in agreement right now. She turns to Annabelle, who looks like she’s wishing she could melt into the leather seats. “You listen, ya. Annabelle, you better not be friend with that girl. She is anak ngga benar.”

“Yes.” Big Aunt nods. “Not-right kid.”

“Not-right kid, exactly,” Second Aunt chimes in.

Annabelle nods quickly. “Yes, okay, Grandaunts. I won’t hang out with her anymore.”

They all glare at her a few moments more before Big Aunt sniffs and nods. Annabelle sags back into her seat. The poor, poor kid. When Ma and the aunties are sufficiently distracted by something else, I reach out and pat Annabelle’s arm. She gives me a terrified look, like: What the hell did you just get me involved in?!

“We need to drop Annabelle home first before going to Julia’s,” I call out to Abi. There is no way I’m letting us drag her into the dangers of Julia Child’s clutches. Ma and the aunties all nod in agreement.

Minutes later, we arrive at Annabelle’s house. I have never seen anyone climb out of a car so fast; she basically jumps out before the car’s even stopped moving, and dashes away while shouting, “Thank you, bye.” My heart goes out to her. She reminds me of myself when I was her age. Or maybe by the time I was her age, I was used to my mom and aunts and knew it was futile to try to fight them?

I turn my attention back to our task at hand as we roll back onto the road. What happened today was awful, no doubt about that, but I can’t undo it, and to be honest, Ma and the aunties do have a point: Rochelle was an immensely horrible kid, and though she didn’t deserve to be attacked by them like that, I can’t see any other way we could have gotten the title deed from her. And now, we have it in our hands and we’re on our way to Julia Child’s house to rescue Nathan. The knot around my stomach eases a little at the thought. Despite all of the mishaps, we have made actual progress. In just minutes, an hour max, I would be reunited with my sweet, long-suffering, loving husband.

Julia Child’s estate is just as imposing in the daytime as it was last night. Maybe even more so, because in daylight, it becomes clear just how awe-inspiring it is, so expansive, and the walls around it so impossibly high that it looks like the embassy of a country that’s invested all of its GDP into the defense sector. My eyes are riveted to the walls as we drive through the front gates. Truly, I have never seen such high walls around a private residence. They look about fifty feet tall and at least three feet thick, and at the very top of the walls are coils of literal barbed wire. Law-abiding businesswoman, my ass.

The car creeps forward up the driveway and we alight at the front door. We climb out warily. For once my mom and aunts are quiet, their usual confidence muted by the imposing mansion that looms before us. Abi smooths down his shirt and hair as he strides to the front door. It clicks open and we all jump a little. A man dressed in an impeccable suit stands before us.

“Welcome back, we’ve been expecting you.”

Abi nods, and we all follow the man as he leads us through the beautiful foyer and into the living room, where Julia Child awaits in all her glory. Today, she is dressed in an expensive-looking pantsuit, and her makeup is 100 percent on point, down to the perfectly painted lips. Next to her are two men dressed in black suits, and next to them is Nathan.

“Nathan,” I cry out, taking a step toward him. The two men stand up. They are very, very tall. I stop in my tracks, all of my instincts suddenly screaming.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Julia Child mutters, rolling her eyes. “Boys, just—calm down, will you? You know what? Actually, just leave us, please.” She waves the two men away.

They hesitate. One of them leans down and murmurs, “Ma’am, are you sure? This is a sensitive situation, and—”

“Do I need to repeat myself?” The casual tone that had graced her voice just a moment ago is gone, replaced by icy sharpness. The man straightens up immediately, gives a short shake of the head, and strides out with his companion. Julia Child turns back to face us and smiles. “I’m sorry about that. It’s so hard to get good help nowadays, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never had to hire bodyguards,” I blurt out.

“Oh, they’re not bodyguards,” she laughs. “They’re my personal assistants.”

“Uh huh . . .” I nod, not at all buying it, not even for a second. I shift my attention back to Nathan. My heart swells at the sight of him. “Uh, can I . . . go to my husband?”

“Of course. Goodness me, why would you ever think that you can’t?”

Because your bodyguards literally almost jumped me when I tried to? But I don’t bother replying before Nathan and I cross the distance between us. I fall into his arms, and he embraces me so tight that he lifts me off my feet.

“Are you okay?” we say to each other at the same time. I pause, laughing, and we say it again. “I’m okay, are you okay?”

“Oh, isn’t this touching?” Julia Child smiles at everyone, putting her palms together under her chin. “There is truly nothing I love seeing more than young love. It’s just so inspiring, don’t you think? Is there anything you wouldn’t do for your husband, my dear girl?”

I turn to her, my fingers weaving through Nathan’s, and I say, without a single doubt, “No.”

Nathan and I gaze into each other’s eyes and he gives me a small nod. It’s a tiny gesture, but behind it is all our history, and the knowledge that despite everything—all of the crap that I’ve put him through—we are okay.

“Ah, I knew it.” She sighs happily, before turning back to face the rest of the group. “So.” With that single word, she has suddenly morphed back into business mode, all the motherly warmth replaced in a snap with cold efficiency. She levels a serious gaze at them. “I assume that since you have returned here, you have the title deed with you?”

Abi comes forward and takes the title deed from his inner jacket pocket but doesn’t hand it to her. He pauses very dramatically, knowing that all of our eyes are drawn to the piece of paper in his hand. He doesn’t take his eyes off Julia Child’s. “Before I give this to you, I need your reassurance that our agreement is still intact. Despite all of the mishaps that have occurred, it was never my intention to cause offense or mistrust. Are we still okay going forward with our business arrangements?”

Not a single breath is drawn in the time it takes Julia Child to respond. Then she sniffs. “Yes, it’s obvious that this has all stemmed from incompetence rather than malice.”

Abi’s shoulders stiffen, and fear shoots down my spine. I take a step forward, my thoughts racing to say something, anything, that would break the tension before Abi’s temper gets the better of him. But before I can think of anything, Nathan says, “You must forgive us, Tante Julia, it really was my fault, because I’m not accustomed to the traditions here. I was the one who made the mistake. It was my incompetence and no one else’s.”

Julia Child spares him a small smile. “He’s a very charming young man, isn’t he, your husband? I can see why you like him so much.” She turns her attention back to Abi, and her gaze flattens as she holds out her hand. “Yes, Abraham, our agreement is still in effect. I shall forget all of this debacle.”

Abi cracks a smile. “You forget nothing.”

They share a laugh and the title deed is passed into Julia Child’s hands. The moment the piece of paper lands on her upturned palm, the grip that was caught around my chest releases and I exhale, all of the breath deflating out of me. So. Much. Relief! I sag against Nathan. Ma and the aunties are grinning at one another.

Julia Child scans the piece of paper and nods, satisfied. As she struts behind her desk and slides the title deed into a drawer, she says, “Well, I hope you gave the poor kid you took this from a sizable red packet in exchange.”

The uncomfortable silence that greets her words makes her glance up. She frowns, straightening up and locking the drawer. “What is it?”

Images of my mother and aunts slamming into Rochelle like a group of overeager linebackers crash through my mind.

“What’s wrong?” Nathan whispers.

“Nothing.” I punctuate it with a grin, but it’s obvious it’s not sincere.

Julia Child narrows her eyes at us and stalks to the front of her desk before leaning back against it. She crosses her arms in front of her chest and cocks her head to one side. “Out with it. You’re in my house. Do not even think you could lie to me.”

Ma and the aunts exchange a quick glance. This is completely new territory for them, and I can see the conflicting emotions warring inside. They’re not used to being in the presence of such a formidable figure. I’m used to it because I grew up with four of them. I’m used to cowering in the presence of greatness, but not so for Ma and the aunties, especially for Big Aunt, who looks like she’s torn between treating Julia Child with deference and telling her off.

Abi is the first to speak. “Ah, well, the red packet wasn’t with any of their family members. It had been taken by someone else.”

An eyebrow quirks up. “Oh?”

“It was a teen. She just happened to be dropping by to see her friend, and—”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, out with it. What happened? Did you harm a random teenage girl?”

Should I be worried by the fact that Julia Child doesn’t seem at all surprised, merely irritated?

“No, I—well, ah—I didn’t lay a finger on her—”

“Aiya,” Big Aunt snaps. “Why you must say like that? Like, so omnipotent.”

We all turn to stare at her. “Omnipotent?” Julia Child says.

I raise my hand. “I think she meant ‘ominous.’ ” I give Big Aunt a smile and she nods gratefully.

“Yes, so omni-nous. Like something so bad happen. Actually, nothing bad happen. We just teach her a lesson, be respecting to your elders!”

Ma and the other aunties all nod, even Second Aunt. “Yes.” Second Aunt wags a finger at the world in general. “Waduh, she was so rude, very talking back. What kind of parent raising her to be so rude to her elders?”

Julia Child’s top lip curls into a sneer. “Nothing worse than people who have no respect for their elders.”

Ma and the aunties nod vigorously. “Yes, exactly,” Ma cries. “Good thing, you agree. I know you will agree because you are proper person.”

A thin smile appears on Julia Child’s face. “So you got the title deed back and you taught a disrespectful teen a lesson. I don’t see any downsides here. You may go.”

“Er—” Abi says, his face seemingly stuck in a permanent grimace. “Yes, about that. The teen—who was very disrespectful, this is true—ah, the tricky part is about who she was.”

Julia Child stares at him. After about two seconds, or maybe it was three hours, Abi finally spits it out. “She’s Kristofer’s granddaughter.”

There is a shocked silence. Even though I’m still unclear on what this means to Julia Child and Abi, I get the feeling that this isn’t good news. Not good news at all. In fact, it might even be catastrophic news.

In a low voice, as though she’s afraid someone might overhear, Julia Child whispers, “Kristofer Kolumbes?”

Abi nods. The silence that follows is as thick as Big Aunt’s buttercream. Then, just as I can no longer stomach the tension, Julia Child opens her mouth and . . . cackles. She literally cackles, like a witch, throwing her head back, clutching her stomach, and letting the maniacal laughter rip out of her. It’s the first time I’ve seen someone do that whole “Mwahaha!” laughter, and it’s disconcerting as hell. I have no idea how to react, and neither does anyone else in the room. We all glance at one another like, uh, what should we do? The hell if I know.

“Kristofer—Kris—” Julia Child gasps in between cackles.

Ma and the aunties give Abi a look, and he shrugs helplessly. The laughter goes on another few minutes before Julia Child finally catches her breath. She wipes away her tears and, still huffing with laughter, says, “Seriously? Wait, so you told off his grandchild?” She snorts again.

“I would say she was more than just told off.” Abi looks down at his shoes.

“She didn’t want to let go of the title deed, that little brat,” Fourth Aunt snorts.

Julia Child gapes at them. “Did you—did you accost her? Physically?”

There’s another thick silence as Ma and the aunties are suddenly very interested in the walls and the ceiling of the room.

“Yes,” I finally choke out. “There was—ah—a physical struggle. She wasn’t hurt though,” I add quickly.

This is greeted by another round of cackling. Julia Child smacks the table and laughs and laughs. “Oh my god. This is the best thing I’ve ever heard. So the lot of you went to Kristofer Kolumbes’s grandchild’s house, physically wrestled the poor girl, and snatched the title deed from her. Oh, this is—this is wonderful.” Her eyes glitter with gleeful triumph. “To be a fly on the wall when she tells him about it . . .”

Dread gnaws at my stomach. “Is that—are we in trouble? Who exactly is this Kristofer Kolumbes?”

Julia Child sniffs, her expression turning sour. “Kristofer Kolumbes Hermansah. A small man, petty and childish and insecure.”

There’s clearly a whole history between Julia Child and Kristofer Kolumbes. A dangerous story, probably pockmarked with land mines. I’m not about to go traipsing in there, but before I can say anything, Ma pipes up. “Hmm, sound just like my ex-husband.”

Second Aunt and Big Aunt nod, both of them frowning at the thoughts of their respective ex-husbands. Julia Child’s expression softens. “Well, I wouldn’t know. I’ve never married. I think it was the right decision, don’t you?”

We all nod vehemently. Well, at least I do. Ma sighs and says, “I don’t know, without Meddy papa I won’t have my Meddy, and without Meddy I won’t have my Nathan, and without—”

“I think we get the point, Ma,” I say loudly.

Julia Child smiles. “I was never fond of children myself, but I understand. And maybe in another life, I would’ve liked to . . .” She gets this faraway look on her face. “But anyway. So you got into it with his grandchild, huh? Ah, he’s not going to be happy about that.”

That same fear coils itself around my spine. “Um, so as I was asking before, are we in trouble with him?”

Julia Child shrugs. “Who knows?”

Very reassuring. Not.

“That’s the thing with these childish, petty people, isn’t it?” she goes on. “But what right does he have to be angry about anything? It’s not his title deed. His grandchild simply stole it and then disrespected these fine women here.” She gestures to Ma and the aunties, who straighten and lift their chins with pride. “Sounds like the kid only has herself to blame. Just like Kristofer,” she adds in a poisonous hiss. “If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll wash his hands of the whole thing and stay the hell away.”

It’s not really a no, but I get the feeling that this is all we’re getting out of her. Just as I think that, Julia Child says, quite simply, “Well, thank you for coming. Our business is done.”

It’s our cue to leave, and I’m not about to miss it. I jump to attention and say, loudly, “Yes, thank you. Goodbye!” I link my arm through Ma’s and pull her along while pushing Big Aunt along with my other hand in a gentle but firm way. They take the hint and say their goodbyes to Julia Child. Outside of the room, her burly bodyguards stand to attention when they see us. They look at Julia Child, who nods at them, and with that, they escort us through the mansion and out into the blinding sunlight. I dare not think what would have happened if Julia Child had shaken her head instead of nodding. Would it have been the last time that I saw the world outside these walls?

No, don’t think like that, I chide myself. It’s done now. It’s over. We’ve had our entanglement with whatever Julia Child is—mafia lady, scary CEO, cartel leader—and we’ve managed to resolve it peacefully. Despite everything, we’re going to be okay.