Post Meeting Roundup

I rang the gong and chanted again with Brandy. The meeting ended, and everyone gathered to plan Buddhist get-togethers and future meetings. “Will you join our Lincoln Center chapter? It’s great having someone so enthusiastic about Buddhism.” “Absolutely. I’m over the moon. I look forward to seeing you all again.” What a great way to see more apartments. No need to tell them I’d only attend meetings that were held in landmark prewar buildings. That would be mere coincidence. I listened politely and attempted to join in the conversation, but I was distracted, obsessed with seeing the rest of the apartment. “Excuse me, Brandy, may I use your bathroom?” “Oh, this isn’t my apartment. It’s Evelyn’s. It’s the second door to the right.” Evelyn was a divorced musician, once married to someone famous, who she refused to identify. She looked the part, with funky dark glasses, long hair, and relaxed clothing reminiscent of the seventies. Did she get this apartment as part of a property settlement? I was dying to find out, but didn’t want to appear pushy. I settled for a quick tour of the bathroom and additional snooping. The bathroom was white, with a large French window that looked out on the sun-drenched courtyard. A marble bathtub and sink with antique art deco fixtures stood proudly on a gleaming floor featuring giant black and white tiles. A bud vase containing a pink rose hung on the corner wall that separated the toilet from the bathtub. White wicker shelves held various perfumes and cosmetics. Missoni towels and washcloths hung from a heated towel bar. A small pink, sea green, and white framed floral painting hung opposite the ornately carved mirrored medicine cabinet. “I could live in this bathroom.” I thought. I looked out the window and sighed. I should have returned to the meeting room, but temptation took over. I tiptoed down the hall to a closed door. “This has to be the bedroom. . .must see bedroom!” I put my hand on the doorknob. “What are you doing?” asked Evelyn. Oh, crap.