CHAPTER 1
WILD ORCHIDS
Orchid
SPRING, NEW YORK CITY
Fifteen years ago, Orchid Paige could’ve never imagined a world without her mother.
Today, April rain swept away the thought, blurring her view of Manhattan skyscrapers outside the conference room windows.
She straightened in her seat, surrounded by her Estee Lauder co-workers. Her cobalt-highlighted hair shone in the window’s reflection. If the black strands of her Asian heritage could transform, what else could change?
Her boss, Joan, commanded the front of the room. She wore a structured suit and heavy earrings. Her mouth barely creased as she shared company news. “International experience is essential for the next level up. Here’s a rare opportunity…”
The atmosphere became electrified.
Princeton, an Ivy League-educated coworker, leaned closer. His nostrils widened, like a racehorse chomping at the starting gate. He was named after the university that his parents believed he was destined to attend.
“Lauder China wants someone for six-weeks in Beijing. It’ll be a high visibility assignment,” Joan said.
Orchid’s pulse quickened. Her imagination tipped halfway around the world, to a place where terra cotta soldiers guarded a long-dead emperor, where the age of dynasties was measured in millennia, and the scale of The Great Wall made it visible from the skies. Visible from my mother’s vantage point in heaven, she thought, as an image danced in her imagination.
Beautiful, dark-haired Mom was the artist in the family, the woman who amused young Orchid with drawings of dogs in tutus, and cat soirees. When she was little, Orchid thought her Chinese half was connected to her creative side. Her analytical brain was from her dad’s side, his long English ancestry stamped with stories of tradesmen and entrepreneurs.
Memories of her mother were faded. She pictured her, still young, unmarred by the accident that took her life, gliding carefree through the grounds of an Oriental palace. “You should visit China someday,” her mom had said.
She realized that Joan was still speaking.
“If you’re interested, let me know by–”
“Song wo,”Princeton trilled in Mandarin.Send him? His grin telegraphed his assumption that privileged schooling and language skills would assure him the coveted assignment.
Chinese warriors from her mother’s ancestry beckoned…your opportunity! Not his!
She stifled an urge to nudge Princeton, to cuff him the way he’d snubbed her non-Ivy schooling. With his proud pedigree, his fat nostrils would likely drip blue blood, marring the silk of his pocket handkerchief. “Where did you attend uni?” he’d asked her by way of introduction, then sniffed at the response.
Princeton’s smugness sparked her competitiveness. She’d earned everything in her life: every scholarship, every opportunity. This would be no different. The challenges from childhood had strengthened her for this battle. She would test her savvy against her colleague’s arrogance. To give herself a chance.
After the meeting, she closed her notebook and walked out of the room with her boss. “I could add value to the team,” she said. “Can we set up some time to discuss the assignment?”
Joan tilted her head at Orchid’s blue locks; her expression was unreadable. “I’m free tomorrow. Schedule some time on my calendar.” Her Christian Louboutin heels clicked down the hall.
Orchid hurried to her desk, opened her computer, and sent an invitation to Joan to meet her in the morning. Then she tapped open a new window to search for information about expatriate assignments. She lost herself in photos. Pictures of smog and crowded highways competed with images of cherry blossoms and temples. She knew that her mother’s nostalgia was for China’s ancient history rather than its present-day complications. Still, she nearly forgot to breathe as she sought her mother’s features in the faces of pedestrians.
At the end of the workday, she exited her office building. The rain had stopped, leaving the evening air humid. Her phone buzzed with a baby picture from her best friend Mandy. The infant’s halo of hair glowed in the sunshine.
Orchid was eager to share this China goal with Mandy. As she crossed the street towards her subway station, she decided to call, rather than send a text.
“Hey, hon,” Mandy greeted her.
“Miss you, honey. How’s my favorite godson?”
“There’s a study that shows smarter babies sleep less. So, your godson must be a genius.”
“Ha. Sleep-deprived parents everywhere will be wishing for less intellect.”
She paused at the top of the steps leading down to her subway stop. Phone reception was always a problem two flights down.
