“Yes?” Rafael prompted.
“A misogynist. Who preyed on women and young girls. He was also known for being quite volatile and manipulative.”
Rafael was silent for a moment, considering all of this. “I don’t know much about his art or the man himself, if I’m honest. You don’t think we should display his work?”
“I didn’t say that. It’s just…complicated. I don’t have a solution, but if you’re going to consider the kind of man he was, then full-on emulation seems like a bit much, especially when you’re creating an entire exhibit full of his art without any context.”
Rafael frowned. “It’s not all about Picasso. And it doesn’t have to be without any context. My client is a big collector. He has work from many different artists. He wants to fill it with a lot of his favorite pieces.”
“Well, that’s another problem I have with the idea.”
“What is?” Rafael asked, and Grace was surprised at how eager he was to hear her opinion.
“I think an art museum should be accessible to everyone who would like to see it, not just hidden away in some secret hideout for rich people.”
“Ah, there it is,” Rafael said, pointing a finger at her, his voice changing. “I got ya. There was quite a lot going on in that face you made when I was talking about the gallery. I knew it.”
“You sound very American sometimes,” Grace commented.
He leaned forward in his chair. “I lived in America for many years, Grace. But tell me this, if it’s not exclusive, then what’s the draw? People want to experience something special. Something that makesthemfeel special.”
Grace sighed. “The draw is the art, isn’t it?”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Grace almost laughed. “Aren’t people going to art museums for the art all the time?”
“But what about the excitement? The mystery? There’s something about how secretive it will be.”
Grace studied his face. There was honestly something kind of cute about his excitement, even if she didn’t agree with anything he was saying. “You think the work of Picasso and whoever else your client is collecting is something that only a select few people who are invited should be able to experience just so they can feel special?”
“Look, that’s not what I’m saying, but there are other museums. The purpose of this exhibit is to create a cultured space where my client’s guests and whoever might use the venue can have an exclusive experience. He owns the art, after all. He can invite whoever he wants to see it.”
Grace shook her head absently.Thiswas the Rafael she was familiar with. He always assumed exclusivity and quality went hand in hand, and he must already think she was as silly as she was at twenty. Silly for thinking that art could be something for everyone, something to bring together an entire community. For him, it was a commodity, and that was all. For a second, she thought maybe he’d changed. He hadn’t seemed quite so unfeeling as the last time she’d met him, and he was a bit more open, willing to engage with her even as she railed against his ideas. But he was the man she remembered after all, a man who valued money and status over everything else.
“People will pay a lot for a VIP experience,” he said. “It could be almost anything in the room, as long as it’s private.”
“Maybe that’s part of the issue,” Grace said in a clipped tone.
“What issue?” Rafael asked.
They went on like that, eating and arguing for almost an hour, and despite the fact that he was incredibly frustrating and she took issue with almost every word that came out of his mouth, Grace had to admit it helped to take her mind off of things. It was nice to talk about something else. Something other than her losses and how she was coping. When she was talking with Alma, or friends back home, or even with Rafael at the outset of dinner, the conversation was always about her messy life. But as she and Raf settled into the evening and into their arguments, it was nice to have a conversation with someone who didn’t care enough to treat her like a crystal trinket, too breakable to handle. Even if Rafael was a total snob, at least he offered a nice distraction.
And, well, his face was also a nice distraction, even if she would never admit that to him in a million years.
CHAPTERFOUR
Christian Ocando’sappearance didn’t quite match Rafael’s expectations. Before this moment, Rafael had been imagining someone in a dark suit with sleek graying hair and a fancy watch, tall and fit and stern. Rafael supposed he’d really been imagining his father. Christian was clearly wealthy, but his wealth was understated. Though they’d communicated via email and phone call, this was their first official meeting, and Christian’s clothing was casual but crisp and clean in a way that alluded to affluence. He wore beige slacks rolled at the ankles and a blue collared shirt, and his hair was a mess of curls on his head. He had a round belly and a big laugh, and he welcomed Rafael into his beautiful minimalist home with a pat on the back.
“Rafael,” Christian said warmly, “so happy you could make it. We’ll go to the gallery, but a lot of the pieces are in storage.”
The man spoke impeccable Spanish, but Rafael detected an accent. Something he couldn’t place.
“How did you end up with so many Picassos?” Rafael asked.
“I’ve always been a collector. A collector of many artists, really. Gris, Matisse, Blanchard, Braque, Dali, Gilot. Picasso is of monumental cultural significance, of course, but also…I don’t know. Something about his particular aesthetic appeals to me.”
Rafael patted himself on the back for recognizing a few of the names Christian listed, but he also couldn’t help thinking of his conversation with Grace a few nights before, about the impossibility of separating art and artist and her qualms about complete admiration of the man without regard to who he was as a person. He’d never given any of it much consideration, but he was interested in listening to what she had to say, even if she thought he was nothing but a dilettante.
