Earlier chapters

by Mike Schwarcz, text and art

While Miguel was regaining his composure in Santa Fe, Hayden was losing his shit in New York, leaving Aisha with her hands full. When it came to actually solving business problems, Hayden was turning to her more and more frequently. From his perspective, Santa Fe was her problem, her domain, small-time. Stuff he couldn't be bothered with. Wasn't it her signature on those contracts with Miguel Angelo? Her bad decisions? Sending her to dusty old Santa Fe to solve his problems was necessary, keeping her in her place. But he had decided to wait until Monday's meeting to tell her. The bi-weekly Monday at the office always resulted in peak chaos. The ceremony this week was disrupted when he headed straight for Aisha's office and plopped himself down in front of her desk.
"I need you to go to Santa Fe," he said.
"Why, exactly?"
"Two things. First, we need to get the construction schedule back on track. The delays are threatening the premier date. Second, you need to ensure that we have something to display. I'm not going to be embarrassed."
"For how long exactly?"
"Can't say how long it might take. If I were you, I'd book a long-term Airbnb." Aisha detected a trace of condescension in his voice.
"I'll make arrangements. Give me a few days." She stared at him evenly until he rose to leave.
Once he was out the door: Bloody Hell! A new problem. The auction was in Baltimore. It had to be in Baltimore. She had to be in Baltimore. Everything was already in place: the bidders selected, the date set. Ifty was flying in, and the girls were coming from Miami. I'll just have to make it happen, she decided.
Calculating SpACE's bill for a month of her out of town services lifted her spirits. No matter, she was actually eager to return to Santa Fe, looking forward to the blue skies and cumulus clouds. She also wanted to console Miguel and gauge how he was holding up. The dull grey pall of New York was increasingly feeling like part of some ancient past to her.

With the auction details finalized, she spent the rest of her week searching for an interesting Airbnb in Santa Fe. Unprepared for the limited housing options and high costs, she ultimately chose a one-bedroom loft with what looked like a charming rustic wood interior. It had one large room downstairs, a kitchen, and a bedroom upstairs. The photos reminded her of an artist's studio. The fact that the exterior was covered in corrugated sheet metal wasn't a selling point for her, but she decided to embrace the local style, paying four thousand a month.

As her departure approached, the call of open skies grew stronger. Ditching her usual business attire, she was happy to let her hair down, morphing into her Santa Fe personna, jeans, boots and all.
During her flight Aisha mused about Miguel, admiring his strength. To dig through layers of his past life, stuff most people would be happy to let lie. He wasn't the first artist she had known to struggle with extracting meaning from his art. She knew artists to be fragile, often insecure, but always interesting, and Miguel was more interesting than most. That he was probably twenty years her senior, she found comforting for some reason. He was the polar opposite of her father, or Hayden, for that matter. Was that the turn on? Or was it Miguel's apparent disdain for success that attracted her? Now that she was going to be spending time with him alone, she wanted to determine if he was for real or a phony.

Cece met her flight Friday night, and drove her to the loft, located on a shady street of buff-colored houses near the Whole Foods, an easy walk to the SpACE project and the temporary studio.
"You couldn't have picked a better location, You can get anywhere on foot from here, it's perfect," Cece said.
"On Google Maps everything is measured as a five-minute drive; the catch is it's ten more minutes to find parking, while they ignore that it's a healthy eight-minute walk."
"If you're hungry, I know a place, a five-minute drive," Cece joked.
"Restaurant Robert?"
"How did you know?" Cece asked.
"Google Maps, again, it looks pretty good.
"Yes, it comes highly recommended by someone who's eaten in New York," Cece said, pointing at herself, smiling.
At dinner, Cece suggested she give Aisha a tour of Santa Fe's significant cultural and artistic landmarks over the weekend, before digging into work on Monday.
"There is a rich history of art in this town, if you know where to look, not to mention the 300+ galleries."
"The Railyard will be happening tomorrow. Then there's the contemporary stuff, The House of Eternal Return, is really cool for example,"
"That artist co-op, house of something? I read a story about it, it sounds interesting, to say the least," Aisha said.
"Oh, trust me, it's like nothing you've ever seen before, a shopping mall turned into an interactive art installation. Words will never do it justice. If you want to take a trip in a dishwasher, that's the place."
"There's also the Round House at the Capitol, I think it's open on Saturday. After that, we can do the Margarita Trail."
"That's a great idea. I want Miguel to come too. We need to keep him inspired," Aisha said.

Dropping Aisha off after dinner, and promising to return tomorrow at ten, Cece called Miguel, informing him he was expected to join them. She also mentioned that she had visited the house to see about Sara's things.
"I think most of her things, clothes, shoes, etc., could be donated to the needy," she said. "She has five purses worth selling; I can put them in a consignment shop, if that's okay with you."
"Sure, whatever you think. Can I ask you? Do you think I should stay in that house?"
"That's up to you, Miguel. I can't say."
"I can't decide."
"Give it time, the answer will come."
"Right? Goodnight, see ya tomorrow."

The summer tourist throngs had thinned considerably as the season slowly shifted toward winter. The weather was now perfectly balanced between cool and warm. Saturday was Aisha's whirlwind of orientation to the art scene in Santa Fe. She intentionally avoided the major galleries, being well-known in the art world she didn't want any attention drawn to her stay.
The House of Eternal Return was the high point for her. Dream worlds, strange beings, and artists. She was wowed and promised to return and spend more time exploring. By three o'clock, the three of them felt overexposed, maximally influenced, and dying of thirst, so Cece proposed they hit the Margarita Trail, starting with the Cowgirl Bar.

Over their drinks, Aisha told them that there wasn't room for another desk at La Peralta for her, and that she intended to share the temporary studio with them instead.
"I hope you don't mind."
"No, no, we have plenty of room. For now, most of what I need to do I can get done from home. Use my desk; the drawers are empty." Cece offered.
"How are things going with the build-out?" Miguel asked.
"It's inching along, there are hang-ups with permits, due to the last-minute addition of a cafe requiring the ancient sewers be upgraded."
"Messy work," Miguel said.
"Roger says the city's working with them, but they're having problems finding contractors this late in the season," Cece said.
"I'd love to see the plans," Miguel said.
"I'll be getting copies from La Peralta, you're both welcome to have a look. You two are a bigger part of this whole thing than I think you realize."
"Yet, I feel like a mushroom, constantly in the dark," Miguel said.
"Don't feel neglected, Migue, now that I'm in town you're in the loop. We're the team that is going to get the gallery launched and make it a success," Aisha said.
"Good! I can tell you, the Goodmans aren't exactly the types to set things on fire," Cece said.
"Don't worry about the Goodmans. They're minority owners, a silent partner calls the shots, and he's nothing like the Goodmans," Aisha said.
"News to me," Miguel said, looking at Cece.
"Anyone we know?" Cece asked.
"At this point, I'm not at liberty to say, but that may change— Anyway, didn't you offer me a horseback ride, Cece?" Aisha said, hoping to change the subject.
"A little chilly this time of year," Cece said.

Monday, when Miguel arrived at the studio, Aisha was sitting at Cece's desk.
"The plans you've been waiting to see are here. Want to take a look?"
Miguel walked behind her desk as she unrolled the site map and elevations. Together, they looked down at the plans for a gallery, studio, and design center occupying a third of the block.
"That's impressive," Miguel said. Their shoulders brushed, and he caught her scent.
"It's got people talking," she said.
"Ron said the same thing. In fact, he told me that a couple of galleries on Canyon road closed immediately after the SpACE groundbreaking was announced."
"I showed you mine, now you have to show me yours. I saw pics of the series you've been working on, I want to see the real thing."
"Follow me."
Miguel opened the door to the storage space where the paintings were drying.
"They just poured out of me."
"Cece said you called it Deer, Dear, Dead?"
"I have a sick mind sometimes." Miguel smirked.
"Don't sell yourself short. You're a deep thinker, you see irony that others miss. A good quality to have."
"The style can still evolve."
"Maybe I can help you with that."
"How?"
"Well, remember that portrait we talked about? Since I'm here for a while maybe, I could be your next subject, allowing you to refine and polish your new style?"
Miguel smiled.
Aisha wanted to contribute to his creative process, as part of getting to know who he was. She found him more intriguing than ever. Their similar backgrounds was one thing, but it was his free-spirit vibe that attracted her. Maybe they could even build a Plan B together, she mused.

Questionnaire on the story

To be continued

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