Lee beamed at Ayah as she huffed and puffed while half-carrying and half-rolling the lady’s two oversized Louis Vuitton suitcases out of the escalator and hurried towards the guests under her care. The departure area for ferries bound for Macau and other ports was crowded, and she had to snake around groups of tourists and shoppers like someone intent on winning The Amazing Race. “I told you, Ayah,” Mrs. Lee said to her in Mandarin when Ayah reached her side, “We’re not going to be late.” Ayah could only smile. She’d talk later, once she managed to catch her breath. She knew everyone who came to Hong Kong had shopping in mind, but the luggage had been seriously heavy. Were folks from Taiwan into buying rocks or something now? Mrs. Lee’s gaze flitted to the queues in front of the ticketing booths. Her hands fluttered. “Now, to buy some ferry tickets to Macau…” She paused. Ayah asked obediently, “Would you like me to buy the tickets for you and your son, Mrs. Lee?”
