Dune Road - By Jane Green Page 0,54

with that playlist in 1982.

So very different, she thinks, to how Americans react to fame.

One night Oprah Winfrey had come to the Greenhouse for dinner. She had, it seems, been in the area to appear at a fund-raiser for Barack Obama, when he was campaigning for the presidency, and was staying with friends for a couple of days after the event.

They had walked into the Greenhouse for dinner on a Saturday night when the restaurant was packed, and Alice had never seen anything like it. As Oprah walked in, it was as if an invisible spotlight shone upon her. A hush fell over the diners, before a swell of excited whispering.

“Oh my God! It’s Oprah! And Gayle! ” Chatter, chatter, chatter. People made no bones about swiveling their heads to gaze, unabashed, as the group made their way through the restaurant, smiling and stopping to shake hands, to receive praise warmly and graciously.

“That,” Alice said, turning to Harry, “is a true celebrity. Look at how good she makes people feel.”

“It’s the gift of Oprah,” Harry said. “That’s why she is who she is.”

Tonight, at Lotus, Alice notes a similar effect, but on a far reduced scale. Everyone turns to watch them walk through the restaurant to their table, and Robert McClore is clearly recognized, but it dies down quickly, and no one comes up to say anything, to lavish praise upon him, perhaps because they know, from his reputation, how uncomfortable he would be.

It is not until their main courses are brought to the table—sesame-crusted tuna with bok choy and daikon salad, cilantro- soy-lime fish cakes, maple-glazed spareribs, beef tataki with soy-mustard sauce, wok-seared sesame chicken with papaya salad, udon noodles with lemongrass and kaffir lime—that they start to relax, start to enjoy themselves, aided somewhat by the constant refilling of the hot sake and chilled white wine they are having with their meal.

“Okay, Tracy,” Charlie says, when silence descends again, the food having been passed around the table, everyone starting to dig into the mountains on their plates. “Now tell us what this mysterious business venture is.”

“It’s not mysterious.” Tracy laughs. “It’s just that I’ve found this building in South Norwalk that’s unofficially for sale, and I’ve been to see it a few times, because I think it would be a great place for a branch of Namaste. I never expected Namaste to take off in the way that it has, but I’m realizing that yoga is becoming an integral part of people’s lives. We’re living in terrible times, times of stress and worry, and while the corporate world seems to be collapsing around us,” she pauses as Keith nods in agreement, “the inner world, the world that embraces all things natural, green, organic . . .” she looks at Alice, then Harry, who nod, “. . . is thriving. People know that there’s more to life than making money, and for many people, yoga is the first step.”

Tracy takes a deep breath before continuing.

“I always saw Namaste as being far more than a yoga studio. It’s a lifestyle. I see it as a place where you can hang out all day, have lunch, have a smoothie, shop for organic products for your home. I want to be able to provide babysitting for children, to give classes on how to make the world a better place. It’s more than yoga, it’s a vision for the future.”

“It does sound amazing when you put it like that,” Charlie says. “And I agree that more and more people are becoming interested in an alternative lifestyle.”

“That’s just the thing! ” Tracy says animatedly. “It’s not alternative any more. It’s becoming the norm, and I want to capitalize on that.”

“So the world is moving away from making money, and you want to make money off the back of that?” Keith laughs, and Tracy pales.

“No! ” Her voice is loud as she jumps on the defensive. “That’s too harsh. I want to provide a service to give people what they want. And if it becomes successful, well, great. Why not? ”

“So tell us about the building you’ve found.” Charlie shoots a warning look at Keith, smoothes things over.

“It’s a warehouse, just off Water Street. It’s one of the old red-brick buildings that used to be an industrial warehouse. It’s just under twenty thousand square feet, needs a ton of work, but could be the most amazing space for a yoga studio. I’m telling you, the energy in that place is wild! ” Her eyes light

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