Zen Attitude Read Online Free PDF

will convince Hita Fine Arts to waive the final-sale policy.”
    “Take some photographs with you, because the cost of transporting the piece back and forth could be enormous.”
    His advice made sense. I wouldn’t pay for transportation of the tansu before I knew I was getting my money back. The damned piece of lacquered wood had cost me too much already.
    By train it was just an hour to Hita, a much shorter trip than by car. I sat in the first compartment, near the driver’s windshield, so I had a panoramic view of mountains and rice fields. Compared to the freeways, the train was not crowded, with enough seats for all the leisure travelers in their bright summer shorts and myself, dressed up in a suit and high heels I thought looked businesslike. I’d even gone to the effort of swapping my customary backpack for a proper beige leather handbag. It contained a little money, the bill of sale, and Mr. Ishida’s official appraisal of the chest as worth one million yen. The figure was nothing to scoff at—it could have covered almost one year’s rent at my old apartment—but was half what I’d paid Mr. Sakai.
    Disembarking in Hita, I regretted my prissy outfit. If anything, the air was steamier than the day before. My panty hose felt as though they were melting on my legs, and I had to wipe my face and neck with a handkerchief before entering Hita Fine Arts.
    “Irasshaimase!” Two clerks dusting fishbowls sang out the welcome greeting to me. I pasted an artificial smile on my face and swished upstairs.
    Mr. Sakai wasn’t doing business at the rosewood table today. That table and all the large antiques I’d seen the day before were also gone. I poked my head into the back stockroom and called into the silence.
    “May I help you?” The young T-shirt saleswoman was regarding me with the same fascinated but fearful expression she’d had when I’d knocked her down the day before. She probably sensed I was back to cause more trouble.
    “Yes, thank you. I’m looking for Sakai-san.”
    “He is not here today.”
    “Is it his day off?” I had been rash not to call ahead, but I’d been relying on the element of surprise.
    “No. He is gone.”
    “Gone? Where to, the bank or someplace? Lunch?”
    “Please, you cannot stay in the stockroom.” The young woman ushered me out of the stockroom and kept watch as I walked slowly downstairs to the customer service desk. I asked to speak to the general manager and had my business card ready when a harried-looking man in his fifties came out of a back room.
    “Ah! You are very prompt, but we are not ready for applications yet.” The man handed back my card.
    “Application?” I repeated.
    “You wish to apply for the antiques concession, don’t you? Somehow, word was spread. We’ve had two telephone calls already this morning.”
    “I’m looking for Sakai-san. That’s all.”
    “Really!” His voice skipped an octave. “Well, I cannot tell you his location, but if you find him, will you let us know?”
    Feeling hesitant, I asked, “Is there some problem?”
    “Did you see how his area looked upstairs?” he exclaimed.
    “It was fairly empty of furniture—”
    “That’s right. After we locked up last night, Sakai got in somehow and removed all his wares. The antiques were his own consignments, so he did not technically steal from us, but still . . .” The manager scratched at a miso soup stain on his tie.
    “He caused you a lot of trouble.” I finished his statement to show I was on his side. “I had a similar experience. Yesterday Sakai-san offered me a price on a tansu but increased it when another customer came in. I wound up buying the chest for much more than its appraised value.”
    “That is too bad.” The manager suddenly seemed less intimate.
    “See, I have it all documented.” I thrust Mr. Ishida’s appraisal and Mr. Sakai’s receipt on the counter. The manager looked at both papers without touching them. At last he commented, “This was