Aunty Lee's Deadly Specials Read Online Free PDF Page A

to
     marry me after sending me away to become all Westernized.”
    Naturally Aunty Lee was curious to see what Leonard Sung looked like. But there was
     no one in sight as she pushed the gate open.
    “Hello. Hello.” Nina spoke into the gate intercom but there was no answer.
    “The gate’s not locked. Why don’t we just go in and start setting up?” Cherril suggested.
    Nina started to say they ought to try calling first but Aunty Lee was already pushing
     the gate open, eager as a little girl to start the day’s catering adventure.
    Once inside the gate, Aunty Lee looked around with interest. Did the Sungs really
     have a private chapel and baptismal pool on the grounds? People said they had turned
     to religion after their son got sick. But the only pool she could see was the small,
     blue-tiled swimming pool, along one side of which the line of buffet tables was standing.
     And the small building on the other side of the pool . . . could that be the famous
     chapel?
    The house itself was clearly a luxury mansion. Aunty Lee herself lived in a good but
     somewhat lower-class bungalow. Built on the sloping inner reaches of King Albert Park,
     the main Sung residence was on the highest level, while the architect had made the
     most of the sloping land behind the house by creating a series of living spaces linked
     by external sheltered stairs as well as what looked like a chairlift. An outdoor kitchen
     complete with cooker, barbecue pits, and an enormous freezer was located on the stone
     patio by the swimming pool on the lowest level, where the back gate was located. Across
     the pool the front of the smaller building (which looked more like a guesthouse than
     a chapel) had French windows facing the pool and patio. These were coated with silver
     reflective film, so Aunty Lee looking in saw only a distorted version of herself.
     A sheltered stone staircase linked the guesthouse and small circular gravel driveway
     leading from the back gate to the main building and there was also the chairlift.
     Aunty Lee wondered whether it was intended as a granny flat—you were close enough
     to have dinner with your family and have grandchildren dropping in but you had your
     own toilet and space for mah-jongg games. Aunty Lee did not miss having children,
     given all the exam worries that came with them, but she would have liked to have had
     grandchildren to spoil . . .
    Despite these pleasant thoughts, something about the little pool house made Aunty
     Lee uneasy. Was it because she could not see what was going on inside? She knew some
     people valued privacy above everything else. But too much privacy also meant that
     no one could look in to make sure nothing was wrong. A fall, for example, could mean
     lying there helpless for hours or more.
    Cherril came to Aunty Lee’s side, snapping her out of her daydream. “Should we bring
     down the extension cables for the blender and chillers or wait and see if they provided
     them? They said they would, right?”
    “Better to bring everything.” It was not that Aunty Lee did not trust people who didn’t
     do their own cooking—she just trusted her own instincts and equipment more.
    It was still early. A few guests appeared, making their way down the stone staircase
     and admiring the landscaping in little clusters. Cherril supplied them with drinks
     (tea, coffee, fruit juices, and her mocktails) while Aunty Lee and Nina spread out
     the tablecloths and plugged in the food warmers.
    “It’s going well, isn’t it? Isn’t it fun?” Cherril said so happily that even Aunty
     Lee did not have the heart to remind her that the hungry (or just greedy) hordes had
     not yet descended with their demands. “I’m just going to bring in the rest of the
     coffee flavoring syrups.”
    Aunty Lee was steadying the chafing pan that Nina was plugging in under the table
     (“Madam, a lot of rubbish underneath here. All their cleaners and bottles of everything
     they just push