vegetables in black bean sauce, chinjew chicken, and moon cakes for dessert. And all the while his mind returned to Bethany—his love.
TOSHIBA
Chapter 9
T he home of Madame Su Ching was in the European section of Tsingyun. When the pedicab stopped in front of it Tiger said, "Usually a home this size is divided into several apartments, but because of my mother's old family connections she has been allowed to keep her home the way it is."
Bethany looked at the tree-lined street, so different from the other parts of the city that she and Tiger had just driven through. There had been small homes, tar paper shacks, Buddahs of every size, green-roofed temples and five-tiered pagodas. Hundreds of people had crowded the busy streets where bicycle bells drowned out every human sound. But here it was different. This street, this house, exuded a quiet, old-world elegance.
"Come, we'll go in," Tiger said. "I'm sure my mother is waiting."
Nervously Bethany smoothed the skirt of the tailored blue dress she'd worn for traveling. Chang's words about Tiger's mother being a formidable woman came back to her. If Madame Su Ching hadn't approved of poor Lee Tung, how would she feel about her son bringing a strange American woman to her home?
The door was opened by a servant woman. Scarcely five feet tall, the woman looked up at Tiger through eyes crinkled with age.
"Ni hau?" she said. "How are you, honorable sir?"
Tiger bowed. "I am well, Mai Ling," he said in Chinese. "This is Miss Bethany Adams. Is my mother at home?"
"She is waiting for you, sir." The old woman bowed as her eyes flicked over Bethany in curious appraisal.
The corridor Mai Ling led them into was clean, and cool, the beamed wooden floor polished to a high gleam. When she came to an ornately carved door she paused, then sliding the door open bowed and stood aside so they could enter.
Silk hangings decorated one wall. A five-panel screen, brilliantly designed in startling colors of red and gold, green and fuchsia, stood beside a cherry wood desk. Chinese chairs, carved with intertwining dragons, were placed around the room. Scarlet peonies in a lacquer bowl bloomed from an ebony table in-layed with mother-of-pearl. At the far end of the room, next to a stone fireplace, there was a red velvet sofa. As Bethany and Tiger crossed the floor a woman rose to greet them.
Su Ching's face seemed carved of pure, unblemished ivory. Her black hair was pulled back from her face into a chignon, and her dark eyes, fringed with long black lashes, framed by pencil-thin eyebrows, were almond shaped. She was quite tall and as slender as a girl. She wore a black cheongsam, black silk stockings and high-heeled black pumps. She was, Bethany thought, a strikingly handsome woman.
"Mother!" Tiger reached her in three long strides. He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her cheek. "You're more beautiful than ever," he said in English as he held her away from him. "I have missed you."
"As I have missed you, Tiger." A pale hand caressed his face. "It has been much too long. I hope you have come for a long visit." Her glance slid to Bethany. "I see you have brought a friend." Her voice grew hushed. "How nice."
"Bethany." Tiger held out his hand, motioning her forward. "Mother, this is Bethany Adams. I'm sure you remember her father, Ross Adams, Father's friend."
A momentary frown marred the smooth forehead before Su Ching held out her hand. On one manicured finger there was the largest jade ring Bethany had ever seen. "Yes, of course I remember Ross," she said in a liitingly musical voice. "How do you do, Miss Adams. Did your father accompany you to China?"
"No, Madame Ching. My father died several months ago."
The delicate eyebrows rose. "Oh? I'm so sorry." She motioned to one of the carved chairs. "Please sit down."
Bethany sat quietly while Madame Ching talked to her son.
"I was surprised to receive your telegram," Su Ching said to Tiger. "I could not imagine whom you
TOSHIBA
Chapter 9
T he home of Madame Su Ching was in the European section of Tsingyun. When the pedicab stopped in front of it Tiger said, "Usually a home this size is divided into several apartments, but because of my mother's old family connections she has been allowed to keep her home the way it is."
Bethany looked at the tree-lined street, so different from the other parts of the city that she and Tiger had just driven through. There had been small homes, tar paper shacks, Buddahs of every size, green-roofed temples and five-tiered pagodas. Hundreds of people had crowded the busy streets where bicycle bells drowned out every human sound. But here it was different. This street, this house, exuded a quiet, old-world elegance.
"Come, we'll go in," Tiger said. "I'm sure my mother is waiting."
Nervously Bethany smoothed the skirt of the tailored blue dress she'd worn for traveling. Chang's words about Tiger's mother being a formidable woman came back to her. If Madame Su Ching hadn't approved of poor Lee Tung, how would she feel about her son bringing a strange American woman to her home?
The door was opened by a servant woman. Scarcely five feet tall, the woman looked up at Tiger through eyes crinkled with age.
"Ni hau?" she said. "How are you, honorable sir?"
Tiger bowed. "I am well, Mai Ling," he said in Chinese. "This is Miss Bethany Adams. Is my mother at home?"
"She is waiting for you, sir." The old woman bowed as her eyes flicked over Bethany in curious appraisal.
The corridor Mai Ling led them into was clean, and cool, the beamed wooden floor polished to a high gleam. When she came to an ornately carved door she paused, then sliding the door open bowed and stood aside so they could enter.
Silk hangings decorated one wall. A five-panel screen, brilliantly designed in startling colors of red and gold, green and fuchsia, stood beside a cherry wood desk. Chinese chairs, carved with intertwining dragons, were placed around the room. Scarlet peonies in a lacquer bowl bloomed from an ebony table in-layed with mother-of-pearl. At the far end of the room, next to a stone fireplace, there was a red velvet sofa. As Bethany and Tiger crossed the floor a woman rose to greet them.
Su Ching's face seemed carved of pure, unblemished ivory. Her black hair was pulled back from her face into a chignon, and her dark eyes, fringed with long black lashes, framed by pencil-thin eyebrows, were almond shaped. She was quite tall and as slender as a girl. She wore a black cheongsam, black silk stockings and high-heeled black pumps. She was, Bethany thought, a strikingly handsome woman.
"Mother!" Tiger reached her in three long strides. He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her cheek. "You're more beautiful than ever," he said in English as he held her away from him. "I have missed you."
"As I have missed you, Tiger." A pale hand caressed his face. "It has been much too long. I hope you have come for a long visit." Her glance slid to Bethany. "I see you have brought a friend." Her voice grew hushed. "How nice."
"Bethany." Tiger held out his hand, motioning her forward. "Mother, this is Bethany Adams. I'm sure you remember her father, Ross Adams, Father's friend."
A momentary frown marred the smooth forehead before Su Ching held out her hand. On one manicured finger there was the largest jade ring Bethany had ever seen. "Yes, of course I remember Ross," she said in a liitingly musical voice. "How do you do, Miss Adams. Did your father accompany you to China?"
"No, Madame Ching. My father died several months ago."
The delicate eyebrows rose. "Oh? I'm so sorry." She motioned to one of the carved chairs. "Please sit down."
Bethany sat quietly while Madame Ching talked to her son.
"I was surprised to receive your telegram," Su Ching said to Tiger. "I could not imagine whom you
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