Earlier chapters

by Mike Schwarcz, text and art

Two days before their groundbreaking, Miguel had only a few studies ready for Aisha's inspection, but he soldiered on, oblivious to anything outside of delivering the paintings necessary to square the ledger with SpACE. That morning, he and Sara had argued about the Defender. Sara wanted to know why Miguel had to pick up Aisha when she could easily rent a car or take an Uber. He ignored the question because he didn't have an answer. Instead, he got a rental for Sara, a considerable setback to their peace pact.

On her second trip to Santa Fe, Aisha was sporting a whole new look with the assistance of Cece and her personal shopper. Jeans with boots, an untucked cotton button-down shirt, vintage leather vest, but no hat. Like a chameleon, she was adapting to her terrain, London, Los Angeles, New York, now Santa Fe. Was she inspired by Cece's stories about the wild frontier or just adding some new attitude to her kit? No matter, the result was the same, she strode through the terminal with all the confidence of a barrel racer.
Miguel spotted her immediately, A mid-morning lull in arrivals allowed him to spother immediately, even with her new look. The sarcastic possibilities were evident, but he let them slide. She looks great. Why discourage her?
"England meets the Wild West, very nice," Miguel said, looking her up and down. "Very appropriate, I must say."
"Always a gentleman," Aisha smiled. She liked his attention but was still a little uncertain why.
"Four Seasons?"
"As usual."
As they approached the Defender, Aisha let out a laugh, "Really! A Land Rover!" She marveled.
"It's Sara's, she wanted a VW Thing, this is the closest I could find."
"These were everywhere in England during The Troubles," Aisha said, recalling her youth in England.
"It's not so great for New Mexico, she rides like a bucking bronco," Miguel joked as they bounced over a speed bump on the way out of the parking lot.
Arriving at the resort, Miguel pulled up and let Aisha and her bags out.
"Let me get checked in and freshened up. The restaurant here is called Terra. Meet me there in an hour. Okay?"
"See ya then," Miguel said.
Miguel was seated at the restaurant bar when Aisha tapped on his shoulder.
"Sorry, let's get a table. I won't eat at a bar."
"Sure, no problem," Miguel escorted her to the hostess, who seated them overlooking the baked terracotta landscape choking on sagebrush, with sawtoothed mountains a distant backdrop.
"Miguel wasted no time. "Any news about Rachel?"
Aisha hated to lie to him. Doing a quick calculation in her head, she decided to tell him the truth. "Can you keep a secret?"
"I have no one to tell; even Sara's been ignoring me lately," Miguel said.
Pausing for effect, she took a sip of water. "Rachel's alive. She got in touch a few days ago. She was on a yacht, but had no way to contact anyone without her phone."
"You're shitting me!" Miguel said, grinning and slapping the table.
"She was never in danger, but it was completely irresponsible. In her defence, she had good reasons, but that's all I can say."
"Does Cece know?"
Rachel called SpACE in New York once they reopened after the weekend. Cece was the one who answered her call. Then Cece called me."
"Wow, have you seen her?"
"I have, she stayed with me in New York for a few days," Aisha was purposely vague.
"Seriously? That's quite a story. So that Hayden guy had nothing to do with her disappearing?" Miguel was at a loss for words.
"Miguel, only you, Cece, and I know she's okay. When she got off the yacht, customs scanned her passport, and it flagged her as a missing person. She informed them she had been on a boat ride and wasn't missing at all. The police chief who filed the report was notified, and the search has been called off. It's all been resolved as far as the law and police are concerned. She didn't break any laws." Aisha explained.
"The most important thing is that she's okay. Don't you find it weird that there wasn't a word about her reappearing on the news? Makes you wonder if the media even cares."
"The important thing is Rachel is safe and out of harm's way. But please, you must keep this under your hat for me, don't tell anyone, not even Sara."

"Okay. My lips are sealed."

"Santa Fe certainly is dramatic, nothing like anywhere I've lived," Aisha said, scanning the scenery outside the window. She could smell the sagebrush, even in the restaurant.
"Alien terrain when compared to England for sure."
"Pretty far removed from New York and Los Angeles as well."
" True. Makesakes me wonder, are you a city girl or a country girl?"
"I'm partial to the city for its opportunities, but Cece is opening my eyes to the attraction of these wide open spaces. She's even promised me a horseback ride, I confess, I am wondering what it would look like from atop a horse."
The waiter approached, and the topic turned to the menu.
"What looks good?" Aisha asked.
"I‘m going for the Rancho Cobb Salad.".
"I'm going to try the brisket tacos. With fries, please."
"Thank you, it'll be right out," said the server.
"So the new SpACE Santa Fe is happening. Are you excited?" asked Miguel.
"Mixed feelings, it's a risk, but the truth is, the top end of the art market has been wobbly for a few years, I get the sense there isn't enough big money fuel to support the existing galleries and artists. This year looks set to be more of the same. Shifting away from the million-dollar-plus works, directing the focus toward more mid-tier artists, will help draw new clientele and spread the risk in case of further downturn," Aisha said.
"I've read a few crazy things along those lines lately myself. One emerging artist's painting sold in 2022 for $120,000. A few weeks ago it was at auction again, but it was only bid up to $10,000. "What's up with that?" Miguel shrugged his shoulders.
"That should never have happened, would never have happened with SpACE. The artist is burnt now, that's irreversible, his career's over."
"That's what's been giving me nightmares lately, everything's on the line, and I fail."
"Miguel, introducing a new artist is a slow process. If you take your time, do it right, we'll succeed. Rush it, and a million things are just waiting to go wrong."
"Well, so far it hasn't been easy, and I've seen a few things go wrong already. I'm a little freaked out to be honest," Miguel said.

They smelled Aisha's tacos before they arrived, and Miguel's worries deferred to his growling stomach.
"They smell delicious." Aisha threw her head back, inhaling deeply.
"Careful, or you'll go home with a food addiction that can't be scratched in New York."
"Delicious. So tender! The first time I've had them."
Aisha's eyes looked like she was in love, before shifting gears. "So, what's up with you?"
"Ah! To put it bluntly, I don't know what to paint. I need some of that guidance you promised at our first dinner."
"Can you be more specific?"
"Nothing is inspiring me. My thinking has been that I shouldn't do watercolors but rather oil on canvas. I even went on a tangent, some studies of abstract expressionist pieces. They didn't wow me. Now I feel lost, and afraid of falling into the trap of trying to figure out what's hot."
"Miguel, that's a fool's mission, you can't just take a punt at it."
"I agree, so what should I do?"
"We haven't discussed this yet, but your first show is going to be the opening of Cece's new SpACE gallery. Which means it only makes sense to continue work in the genre, style, and subject matter that got you here, Santa Fe."
"Forever?"
"No, not forever, just long enough that the locals and visitors can build an association. That's why we brought you two on board, to give SpACE credibility with the locals. We don't want to be seen as the big city folks, coming in and upsetting the apple cart," Aisha continued.
"Okay, I'll accept that as good advice. So should I switch to canvas?"
"If you can paint the canvas with the illuminating glow that your watercolors have, I believe there would be a market. Just don't go too Kinkade."
"Riigghht! What about size?"
"Shape doesn't matter much, but for now, don't go over thirty by forty inches. Think of them as windows onto Santa Fe, with all its magical allure, that someone can hang on their wall."
"Like a hundred other artists here in town.".
"You're the only Flameboyant one, Miguel, remember that."
Miguel laughed, and Aisha thought she detected a blush in his cheek.
"I'm not sure I can have fifty paintings done by then. How about a dozen or two?"
"Well, if they're good, we can probably forgive you. If they stink, my boss may not be too pleased and will want to have a word."
"Thanks. So, what about groundbreaking tomorrow?"

"It starts at eleven with short speeches from the mayor and a few others. We pose with spades for photo ops, then have a buffet lunch at a hotel. I was hoping Cece would be back to give a speech; she's better at that than I am," Aisha said.
"Where's it happening?"
"Quite convenient, actually. It's all taking place up the block from the old gallery. It shouldn't take more than an hour. I want to see your latest work afterward."
"Not much to show."
Miguel tried to put the conversation back on track after a pause.
"Let's make it before the event. We meet at the studio at, say, ten?" he suggested.
"Sure, I'll take an Uber in the morning, save you a trip," she agreed.
"Okay, it's a plan."

"Good Morning." Aisha arrived at the studio before the groundbreaking, more chipper than usual. The last few days, her interactions with Rachel and Vanessa had her reconsidering her priorities. That morning she had decided she had to make some changes if she was ever going to be happy.
"Isn't it, though?" Miguel nervously welcomed her on her first visit to the temporary studio with air-kisses.
"It's quite a nice studio space as it is."
"It took a while to get the lighting right, and we had to eliminate a very annoying echo, but it was worth it in the end, I'd be happy to remain here.
Aisha liked the studio, but it wasn't what was on her mind. She was increasingly confused about Miguel.
Where are your paintings?"
"In the storage room, over here. Please don't be too disappointed," Miguel led her to the door.
What she saw when the door opened was unexpected: several small abstract paintings that, frankly, did little for her.
Her back was turned to him as she bent over to look at an orange and blue abstract study. "Miguel, forget these. Go with what we discussed at lunch, trust me."
Miguel felt crushed. His brain racing, he wasn't sure how to react.
Aisha read his face. "Remember you promised me two paintings at the gallery that first night?" she asked.
"Sure,"
"The one turned out to be sold, so I only got one. But I wanted two."
Turning, she smiled her most mischievous smile and came to stand beside him. "Just follow my advice, you'll be fine." Kissing him on the cheek.
Miguel's knees felt weak. He felt ready to give her whatever she wanted. Anything.
"So, could I commission you for a second painting? A portrait maybe, something to expand your oeuvre?"
"I'd be honored," was all Miguel could think to say. Why is she always leaving me feeling speechless?
"A lot is going to be happening in the next six months, Miguel, change is in the air, and it's going to be good for all of us, I promise."
"I like it when you talk like that."
"Just another overachiever telling someone something she thinks they want to hear. A habit of mine."
"A good or a bad habit?"
"A habit that I'm hoping to change."
"Interesting. I'll support you any way I can. You've given me the chance to change and succeed. The least I can do to return the favor and instill a little free spirit in you.
"You've changed?"
"Yeah, I'm learning I can trust other people, like Cece— and you— to do the right thing, instead of assuming people will automatically do their worst. I'm glad we met."
"Damn this bloody groundbreaking, it's the last thing I feel like doing right now," Aisha paced. "What time is it?"
"Ten forty-five, time to go."
"I wish we had more time. Let's discuss the portrait, after the groundbreaking, shall we?"
Miguel jumped at that like a trout to a fly.

Questionnaire on the story

To be continued

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