“It’s the method of correspondence that works best for us. It’s always the same thing, ‘stop messing around with your life, and come work at this big, important job instead.’”
Grace grimaced. She could relate to part of this. Her mother only communicated in sporadic text messages, and usually only when she wanted something. An update on any items of interest in Gram’s will, for instance. That was expected. However, it would have been the shock of Grace’s life if her mother reached out to pester her about career opportunities. Becky Cameron couldn’t very well try to push Grace into pursuing bigger goals when she was hardly doing anything herself.
“Don’t you own your own company?” Grace asked. “It’s not like you’re an embarrassment to your family.
Rafael shrugged, but the vulnerability that flashed across his face carved out a little tender spot in Grace’s heart before she could think better of it.
“I am an embarrassment to my family, actually. There’s no living up to Simón’s expectations,” he explained. “All you can do is come to terms with it.”
“Have you?” Grace chewed on the nail of her pinky finger and studied him more closely. “Come to terms with it?’
Rafael turned back toward his computer again, focusing on the screen with a quiet determination. “Let’s see what else Christian owns that might interest you, shall we?”
The drive to Sacromonte only took about thirty minutes, but Grace felt like they were traveling through time. There was a narrow road that skirted the edge of a cliff, and she was clinging to the side of Rafael’s car with white knuckles even while she was gasping at the gorgeous views. The houses, the hills, the bright whitewashed buildings—all of it was like something from a story book, so beautiful and unique she could hardly believe it was real. Every time they rounded a corner there was a new landscape to behold. The greenest trees sprouted from the hillside, flashes of the whole city visible from way up there, as if they were on the edge of the world looking over everything.
Rafael kept glancing over to gauge her reactions, which she found flattering and frustrating at the same time.
“Keep your eyes on the road!” she yelled when he took a corner too quickly for her liking.
“Oh, you want to drive next time?” he asked with a grin.
“Not even a little.” She could see how this place held a great appeal for Rafael’s client. Besides how beautiful and extraordinary it all was, it also felt tucked away and hard to get to. Something special. Something secret. Just what he was looking for.
“Look at that!” Grace called, pointing.
Rafael jerked the wheel in alarm before straightening it out and following her gaze. “You know what that is, Graciela?” he asked, tilting his chin toward her and trying to hide his smile.
“A pomegranate tree,” she said, laughter bubbling out of her at the sight of the big, beautiful plant. It had become a scavenger hunt to her now, and she’d spotted several carvings and plaques with pomegranates, but this was the first time she’d noticed a whole, real-life tree.
“It takes one to know one, Little Pomegranate,” Raf said, his accent even thicker than usual as he enunciated the English words. The sweetness and familiarity of it seemed to seep into her skin. It was hard to believe he’d practically had to force her to come here, to this magical place of caves and pomegranate trees. She was in love with it already, and she hadn’t even set foot inside the exhibit space.
The truth was Grace was having fun. She was having fun riding along in the car while enjoying the views. She was having fun finding pomegranates everywhere as if this was her new mission in life. She was having fun with Rafael, and it surprised her as soon as she recognized the feeling. It had been a long time since she’d truly enjoyed herself, but she wasn’t sure quite what to make of the revelation.
“I don’t think anyone’s here right now,” Rafael said as they pulled up to a small building at the end of a road that looked similar to the others—which meant stark white and curving into the side of a cliff with little windows surrounding a peach-colored door. It was difficult to determine how large the place was since it was built on the side of a hill.How deep underground did this thing go?she wondered, staring with her mouth agape. “We can take a look around so you can get a feel for the place, and then a van is coming with some of the art later on.”
Grace shuddered at the thought of a big van on the narrow roads. She wondered how many trips it would take to get all the paintings to the cave.
She followed Raf as he unlocked the narrow doors that led inside. Grace instinctively ducked her head as she walked down into the first room, but it was larger than she’d expected. For all that Rafael had complained about how they were going to make this space work, she’d been expecting some kind of a Hobbit hole. But the ceilings left plenty of room for her to stand and walk around comfortably, and the first room was actually quite large compared to the image she’d conjured in her head. While you could tell you were in a cave, the bright white walls and natural light from carved windows were enough to make it feel open and comfortable. Grace suddenly thought of the neighbors who were living in similar houses nearby and wondered how they’d decorated and designed their homes.
Rafael typed in a code on a small keypad near the door. Of course they’d already installed some kind of security system and some fancy temperature and humidity control unit prior to transporting hundreds of priceless pieces to the venue. The panel beeped, and then Rafael flipped a switch, further illuminating the room with an overhead light.
Grace reviewed the scene before her again, taking in the oval shape of the entryway and the large arches that led to other rooms. One obstacle—one that Rafael had been sure to mention several times—was the texture of the walls. They were very rough, walls of rock rather than smooth drywall, and it was difficult to imagine hanging anything on them, much less finding a way to hang the work of some of the most famous artists of all time. This wasn’t her area of expertise by any means, but Grace was already making calculations in her head. This wall might hold a larger painting, but could they smooth it out somehow or frame in in a way that would let it hang evenly against the wall? Where might they put smaller works side by side? Would this little alcove work for a larger piece? Perhaps one of great significance? At least they didn’t have to worry about fittingGuernicaorLes Demoiselles d’Avignonanywhere in the small space.
Just as he had on the road, Rafael watched for her reactions as he guided her through the place that would become Christian’s own underground art gallery. Raf seemed to be waiting for her to say something, to let him know if there was any way they could make this work.
“What do you think?” he asked at last, clearly unable to hold himself back any longer.
Grace gave him an encouraging smile. “It’s hard to know without seeing the art in person,” she started.
“Of course, but if you just imagine…”
“It seems possible,” Grace said, putting him out of his misery. “I don’t have it all worked out exactly, but it’s larger than I was expecting. I think we could make something work.”
“But will it actually look good?” Rafael pressed anxiously. “Or will it just look like too many paintings shoved in a little cave house? It has to be a whole experience.”
Grace couldn’t help letting out a little snort. She didn’t mean to. She knew how much this meant to him, how much he worried, but the way he was freaking out about designing a private art exhibition was kind of adorable. “So you’ve told me. A cultural phenomenon, I believe you said.”
Rafael frowned at her.
