“The client has a lot of influential twentieth century artwork.”
“Perfect!” Alma exclaimed, raising her wine glass in the air so the dark liquid almost splashed over the rim.
Rafael and Grace both turned toward her, giving her their full attention as Alma continued. “Grace should work with you to curate the exhibit. You could hire her part-time as your assistant or something. You don’t know anything about Picasso or paintings, Rafa, and she knowseverythingabout it. She literally wrote articles about twentieth century art.”
“Oh,” Rafael said again, sure he was starting to come off like a buffoon, not the cultured sophisticate he was supposed to be. He didn’t know what to say, though. He didn’t want to work with Grace, and he certainly didn’t need her help. She would just get in the way, a total distraction hanging around and mooning over the artwork instead of getting any work done.
“I don’t think so, Alma.” Grace pushed some hair behind her ear, and something about the movement made Rafael stare in wonder. “I still need to settle into the new teaching gig and make sure I have all my lesson plans ready. I know it’s just a few classes, but I want to do a great job.”
Alma made an indelicate sound with her mouth that rained spittle over her kitchen counter. “You’ll be fine, Gracie. You don’t even need to prepare. You could teach that class in your sleep.”
Rafael decided to jump in. “I don’t need an assistant, though. This is my job, and I know what I’m doing.” That wasn’t entirely true, but confidence was key.
“What do you know about Picasso?” Alma asked accusingly.
Rafael opened his mouth and then shut it. Whatdidhe know about Picasso? He knew about architecture, sure. He was a master of the Gothic, the Baroque, Romanesque, and Art Deco. That’s what he’d been more interested in in school. But he didn’t know about painting.
“You heard him, Alma.” Grace chimed in. “He doesn’t need me, and I just moved to a new country to start a new job at a campus I’ve never seen in my life. I should probably worry about that for now.”
Alma’s voice softened as she spoke to her friend. She was so tender toward Grace in a way that made Rafael feel like he was intruding. “But it might help to have another project to work on to help take your mind off everything...”
Everything, everything. Rafael couldn’t quite remember what everything was. She’d lost her job, that much was clear. But there was also something about a boyfriend. And a grandmother?
“I’ll be okay.” Grace insisted. “You’ve already done so much for me; you don’t need to force your brother into helping me out too. Except for bringing up the luggage, I guess. And even that was unnecessary.”
“Well,” Rafael said. He was starting to get the feeling that Grace didn’t want him here. She could have brought up the luggage on her own, and if she had no interest in his silly underground art exhibit, that was just fine. He suddenly wanted to be out of his sister’s apartment. He had work to do.
“I’ll let you enjoy your evening.” He excused himself, giving them a curt nod.
“Sure you don’t want to eat with us?” Alma asked.
He couldn’t help glancing at Grace again, to see how she would react to that. Did she want him to stay?
But her face was neutral, and he wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. This woman didn’t like him. She’d made that clear ten years ago when she backed away from his lips like they were poisoned, and she’d made it clear tonight when she kept her distance from him. She might look impartial now, but he was sure she did not want him to stay for dinner.
He wouldn’t bother getting upset. He didn’t like her either. He hadn’t liked her at twenty-years-old when she was young and frivolous, and he didn’t like her now, when she was…whatever this was.
“Some other time,” he said. “Adios.”
Why did he look over at her again before he walked out the door? It was like he expected her to do something, though he didn’t know what. Instead, she just gave him a little wave and a sad smile.
Words jumbled against his tongue, but instead of letting any of them out, he gave her a last perfunctory nod and left.
He sighed with relief when he was on the other side of the door, finally out from under her gaze.
CHAPTERTHREE
“Sorry about my brother,”Alma said when Raf was gone.
“What do you mean?” Grace asked. Sure, she had her own silly historical beef with him, and he didn’t seem far off from the snooty, pretentious boy in her memory, but she wasn’t sure why Alma was apologizing for him.
“I swear he’s the best brother in the world, but I’m not blind to his shortcomings. This is one of those situations where he despises my father and so desperately tries to be nothing like him, but it seems he just can’t help himself sometimes. He can be so cold and serious.”
“I remember,” Grace murmured.
Every time Grace had met Alma’s father when he visited America, he’d seemed perfectly charming. He was always taking them out to dinner and buying Alma presents, doting on her and spoiling her. But Grace still knew what Alma was referring to. She’d heard plenty about how cold the patriarch of the Ferrer-Martín family could be, how demanding, especially with Rafael. There was something intimidating about him, even when he was being jovial, like maybe he was only ever pretending. He was a rich and successful man with expensive tastes and certain expectations for his son. He wanted Raf to be rich and powerful in his own right, to be elite in every way possible. In Grace’s estimation, Rafael was succeeding.
Not only was Rafael starting up some extravagant underground art exhibit, but there was also something about the way he kept glaring at her. She knew she didn’t look her best right now, but that’s because she wasn’t at her best. Not at all. He didn’t need to keep gawking at her and making her feel like such a mess under his scrutiny.
