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“No, silly, as in Western culture,” Sara said.
“Chase is pretty Western himself, but’s he’s only going because he’s working on a campaign for Mitch.”
“Has Mitch moved in yet?” Sara asked.
“He has.” I sighed. “He’s so annoyingly tidy. He keeps moving my stuff around. And I can’t have any meat in the fridge.”
“That’s a little unfair,” Sara said.
“It is my mother’s place. I guess it’s time I moved.”
One week after Mitch invited Chase and me to his new spa, we arrived at the secluded resort. Set deep in a forest, a rectangular building gleamed under the morning sun. Surrounded by trees, with a private pier and a moored boat by its feet, the structure resembled a cube of water with the lake’s reflection rippling on its glass walls.
“I should have brought the Jet Ski,” Chase said, staring out at the shimmering golden lake.
“Something tells me it’s not that kind of place.”
Chase parked his BMW among the electric cars. “I hope they don’t judge me harshly for driving a gas guzzler.”
He jumped out, ran over to my side, and opened the door.
“Madame.” He bowed.
I giggled. Stroking the car, I said, “It’s a nice gas guzzler.”
Mitch didn’t own a car, and my mother had just purchased an electric car, which she often forgot to charge and therefore ended up using cabs instead.
We made our way to the entrance of the building, hand in hand, which felt nice. So nice, I couldn’t stop smiling.
A man dressed in loose white cotton pants and a long Indian-style shirt greeted us with his hands in prayer. “Namaste.”
“Pleased to meet you, Namaste. This is Ivy, and I’m Chase.” He held out his hand.
My teeth sank into my lip to quash the laughter. I whispered, “That’s a greeting. Not his name.”
“Oops,” Chase said with a grin. I liked that Chase didn’t take himself seriously. He seemed to wear his goofiness like a comfy sweater knitted by an eccentric aunt.
Remaining with his hands in prayer, the man returned a gentle smile, then gestured for us to enter.
Chase stretched out his arm. “After you.”
I stepped into a sparsely decorated, predominately white foyer. A calming scent of jasmine hit my nasal passages and instantly put me in a relaxed mood.
Soothing Indian music floated through the air soaked in sunlight, which streamed through the wall of windows looking out to the lake.
A young woman in white welcomed us.
I’d questioned my mother about why everyone in her New Age scene wore white, and she’d explained it was to purify the aura.
“And to attract stains,” I’d muttered.
“Welcome.” The lady bowed her head, then showed us to our room, where a pleasant citrus floral scent filled the airy space.
“Mm… smells nice,” Chase said, setting down our bags.
Beyond the sliding glass doors was a postcard view of the lake fringed by towering oak and maple trees. They painted a fiery display of reds and oranges complemented by luminescent greens.
“Great view.” Chase slid open the door, and a blast of earth-drenched air filtered through.
