Tales from the Yoga Studio by Rain Mitchell Page A

carpentry and handyman work, something he’s really good at and occasionally seems to enjoy, is a mystery to her. The first thing you notice, especially if the sun is shining—and it usually is—is the warm honey color of the floors.
    â€œIt’s great,” Conor says. “My place back in Boston had floors like this. I hate to think what I did to my lungs sanding and laying down the polyurethane.”
    Flooohz . “I guessed you for a DIY kind of guy.”
    â€œI like projects. You have enough projects lined up, you stay out of trouble.”
    Katherine wonders how to read this. When people talk about staying out of trouble, it usually means they spent a substantial amount of time in trouble at some point or other. If Conor follows the stereotype of big Irish guys from Boston, that probably means too many hours spent drinking in sports bars and maybe getting into fights on the sidewalk after closing hours. Although there’s something so gentle about him—unbelievably sexy on someone his size—it’s easier to imagine him breaking up fights than starting them.
    â€œIt’s tough for you to stay out of trouble?” she says.
    â€œYou ask an awful lot of questions, you know that?”
    â€œI do. It’s a bad habit. You avoid answering an awful lot of questions, you know that ?”
    He winks at her and puts his hand on the small of her back. “So where do you do your magic?”
    â€œLet me show you the studio first.”
    Chloe is behind the reception desk, talking at full volume on her iPhone. Chloe teaches one of the sunrise flow classes at 7:00 a.m., three days a week. She’s a bartender on weekends at a club in West Hollywood, and, because her mother runs a boutique agency in Los Feliz, she’s studying to get her real estate license. It’s such a crazy combination of interests and professions, it all makes sense somehow. She’s a terrific teacher with a devoted following of early risers, but her in-class patter tends to be heavy on metaphors that sound connected to her other pursuits. “Bend at the waist and let your body pour down over your legs, like a warm, dark liquid pouring over ice, slowly melting out all the tension and stress.” “Pull back your shoulders and open up your chest like you’re opening your front door and welcoming in the universe. I call this ‘open house pose.’ ” She had a boyfriend for a while, then a girlfriend. Now she’s single, one of those truly bisexual people who fall in love without any apparent preference for gender. That must make life either very easy or extremely complicated.
    Odd that she’s here at this time of day, but no point in trying to break into what sounds like an intense conversation with her mother. Her mother, who shows up at the studio from time to time, is one of those creepily driven people who seems to calculate how much time you’re worth before she’s willing to engage with you. Still, you have to admire her for setting up a successful business. She and Chloe act more like sisters, and there are times when Katherine envies the closeness of their relationship. She hasn’t talked to her own mother in six years.
    In the studio, Conor looks almost comically out of place, slouching a little as if he’s intimidated, the way men often do when they walk into a yoga studio for the first time. “Great view,” he says. “So show me some of your tricks, lady.”
    â€œThey’re not tricks, Mr. Ross. They’re poses. Or asanas , if you want to get fancy.”
    Having said that, she looks him in the eyes and drops down onto the floor. She pops up into a perfect forearm balance, then lowers her feet to the floor behind her and presses up with her hands so she’s in a deep back bend. And then, just because she can’t resist, she walks her hands in and slowly unfurls to standing.
    â€œWhoa!” Conor is laughing and