But it was not to last for long.
“I wonder if I might have a few minutes of your time?” Khun Wongvipa said to me the next day. “A private word, if you don’t mind.”
“Certainly,” I replied. A twinge of apprehension tugged at the back of my mind.
“I would appreciate your advice on a subject of some delicacy,” she said. I sincerely hoped I didn’t know what it was.
“My husband, you see, is not really supportive.”
No kidding, I thought.
“Would you mind accompanying me to the fourth floor?”
“Not at all,” I said. I did, after all, have to be nice to my host and Jennifer’s beau’s mother, although what the fourth floor had to do with the subject was a mystery, and there was absolutely no way I wanted to discuss her love life. We emerged from the elevator into a bright, airy space with a wonderful view of the river. A desk and workstation had been set up, along with two drafting boards, and two young men were working away at drawings. There were bolts of fabric everywhere and some very fine reproductions of old Thai carvings and furniture.
“This is the home of what I call Ayutthaya Design,” she said. “It has nothing to do with Ayutthaya Trading. I have started my own little business. My husband thinks it is a silly notion of mine. He doesn’t understand why, given we obviously don’t need another business, I would do such a thing. Before I met my husband, I was poor, and I worked very hard. Even in the early days of our marriage, I worked in the company. But then I had children, and the business did exceptionally well without me. Still, I would like to have something of my own. I cannot help but feel you will understand. Jennifer has told me about your shop, which sounds quite wonderful, and even though I am sure it is easier for North American women than it is for Thai, you must still have had many challenges. I really could use your advice as to whether you think there might be a market for my lines in North America, and if so, how I might go about getting started there. I’m hoping you could help me, if it is not too much of an imposition.”
“Of course I understand,” I said. “And I’m flattered you would ask me.” And relieved, too, that it was such an innocuous subject. “I know very little about business in Thailand, but I will help in any way I can. I loved the china last night, by the way. Yutai told me you designed it. I am terribly impressed.”
“You flatter me, I think,” she said, but she looked pleased. “It isn’t a new design, really, just an updating of a very ancient one.”
“I think that’s a real talent,” I said.
She made a self-deprecating shrug. “I only make what I like myself. Now let me show you what I’m thinking about. And please, be absolutely honest with me. I need to know if this will work, so don’t feel you have to be polite.”
“I will tell you exactly what I think,” I said. This is something Clive and others have told me I do rather too often, but it made me smile to hear her say it. If anything, I have found Thai people to be way too polite.
We spent a very pleasant hour or so talking about business in general and discussing her plans. She had designed a china pattern similar but not identical to the Chaiwong pattern I’d seen the night before, a flatware pattern to go with it, and an interesting line of bamboo and rattan furniture. She also had, she told me, a warehouse full of both antiques and reproductions, a few of which she had brought in to show me. There were some lovely sterling silver pieces, including some reproductions of the betel nut containers she’d given me, some puppet heads on stands that were quite striking, lovely silk cushions, some made from old textiles, and a line of terra-cotta products, including the kinaree lamp bases that were in my room, and some attractive Buddha statues. Everything was high quality and chosen or designed with impeccable taste.
In the end we agreed that she would send me details on prices and so on when she was ready to go, and in the meantime that I would make inquiries on her behalf. I told her I’d be interested in carrying the flatware and china, although in relatively small quantities, and would try to find her a suitable importer. I thought I might even consider doing it myself, starting my own little business on the side, but didn’t say as much.
“You have been most kind and helpful,” she said, smiling at me. “I knew I had found a kindred spirit the moment I met you.”
“I’ve enjoyed this immensely,” I said, and much to my own surprise, I had. Not once during that hour or so did so much as the most oblique allusion to the previous night’s activities cross her lips or mine.
“Here, please,” she said. “A gift.” She handed me a lovely terra-cotta Buddha about twelve inches high. “To take to your home.”
“You mustn’t,” I said. “I’m only too happy to help.” She looked hurt. “You don’t need to give me anything. You have already showered me with gifts, and I am glad to be able to help you.”
“Please,” she said again. “I would like you to have this.” It seemed churlish to refuse further. It occurred to me that it looked familiar, similar if not identical to the Buddha images on the postcard Will Beauchamp had sent months ago asking for our business.
“Do you mind if I ask your help with something?” I said.
“Of course not,” she said.
“I’m a friend of Will Beauchamp’s wife,” I said. “He was the antique dealer mentioned briefly at dinner last night.”
“Yes,” she said. “I know him. Not well, but we met several times, and he visited our home.” There was something in her tone, the same note I’d heard last night on the same subject, a hint of disapproval, perhaps. I wasn’t sure what nerve I was touching, but I felt I had to continue asking questions.
“Do you have any idea where he might be?”
“I assume he’s in Bangkok. He had a shop there. I haven’t seen him in several months, however.”
“His shop is closed,” I said, watching her carefully.
“I didn’t know that,” she said.
“Actually Ayutthaya Trading seized the contents for nonpayment of rent and is going to auction off everything.”
“I didn’t know that either,” she said. “I have no real dealings with Ayutthaya Trading. I am sorry about your friend, though.”
“I’m wondering if he left a forwarding address, or any hint at all where he might now be,” I said. “Would it be possible for someone to have a look? His wife is desperate to know where he is, and I told her I would look. There would be a file on him at Ayutthaya Trading somewhere, wouldn’t there?”
“I expect so,” she said. “I’ll ask my husband.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“It would be my pleasure to help you in return for your kindness,” she said. “It is interesting to hear what you say about William. Perhaps this explains something. You have been honest with me, and I should return the favor. He was here, in my studio, on more than one occasion. I showed him what I have shown you, and he, too, offered to help me, just as you have. He said he had all kinds of contacts in Canada and the U.S. he’d get in touch with. But I never heard from him. I was a little disappointed. He seemed very nice, but then nothing. I suppose when you mentioned him last night and then again today, I was still influenced by what I saw as rudeness. I know you won’t be like that.”
“I’ll certainly try not,” I said.
“I know you won’t, and I am telling you this only because I want to explain my rather dim view of him. Perhaps I was wrong.”
“He has disappointed a lot of people. I’m sorry to hear you are one of them,” I said.