Chapter 9 #3
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 fitting Guernica or Les Demoiselles d’Avignon anywhere 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.
She patted his arm and tried her encouraging smile one more time. “I think you can make it beautiful, Raf. I really do.”
They walked around the cave house several more times as Rafael wrote notes she couldn’t read in a tiny journal.
She took pictures and videos on her phone to remember every detail—the alcove off the largest room, the long hallway that spread out and ended in a large, strange cavern that looked like a mushroom.
Everything was white. The front rooms glowed with some natural light, while the other rooms were dim—something they would have to consider for the placement of each piece of art.
Grace couldn’t help wondering about whoever had come up with the idea to create this place, to carve out a cozy little dwelling from the rock on the side of a cliff.
It did inspire her, though. She was already imagining where they might add lighting and how they would try to direct the flow of traffic, that is, if Christian’s guests actually cared to look at the art during his fancy parties.
As if she had summoned him with her thoughts, the man she assumed was Christian appeared with his arms outstretched and sporting a giant grin.
His white teeth shined, seeming to reflect the walls of the cave, and just a sliver of his round belly was visible under his shirt.
When he dropped his arms, the sliver disappeared.
Grace had been picturing someone more glamorous, someone who wore clothes that looked too nice to touch, but Christian was clearly prepared to work.
His linen pants were well made, but they looked comfortable.
No suit and tie. No fancy watch. Nothing to get caught on his precious paintings as he helped to haul them from the truck.
The fact that Christian planned to help with the hauling at all showed just how precious they were to him.
“Who do we have here?” he asked in Spanish, his eyes fixed on Grace.
She tried to smooth her loose braid and thin sweater and waited for Rafael to introduce her.
“This is Grace Cameron,” Rafael said in English, for her benefit. “She’s a professor at the international university and an expert on modern art. I thought she might be able to offer a few insights to help us get started.”
“Si, si, the American art instructor,” Christian said, switching to English as well. “You mentioned you were bringing someone, but I didn’t expect her to be so lovely, Rafael. I should have known you would find the most beautiful expert possible to help with your work.”
Rafael averted his gaze from Grace and cleared his throat. He clearly wasn’t going to be agreeing with that sentiment.
Christian patted his arm and murmured something else to Rafael in Spanish before moving forward to shake Grace’s hand.
Raf’s eyes went wide at whatever Christian had told him, but he didn’t respond as Christian switched back to English.
“Nice to have you here, Senorita Cameron. I’m excited to show you the work and see what you think. ”
Grace shifted on her feet. “It’s nice to meet you, but I’m just here to see if I can help a bit. This isn’t really what I do.”
“Yes, you are a teacher, and that’s even more important. But if you have any ideas at all to help with our little project, we’ll be very grateful to you.”
Christian swept past her and started to wander around the building as if refreshing his memory.
His shiny shoes squeaked across the brushed concrete floor, before he popped up on his tiptoes and peered out one of the little carved windows.
The bright sun lit up his face, and he nodded happily as he moved on to the next room, clearly reassured that he’d chosen the perfect venue.
When Grace found Rafael’s eyes, they were already trained on her.
“What?” she asked, smoothing a hand down her braid again.
Rafael opened his mouth and then closed it without speaking.
“What is it?” Grace pressed.
He cleared his throat and turned away. “Come back to the kitchen area again,” he said. “I don’t know how we’re going to cater anything here.”
“You’re such a pessimist, Raf,” she scolded.
She couldn’t help but feel like he had something else on his mind, but obviously it wasn’t something he planned to share with her.
She glanced around the front room another time, imagining how it might look when it was no longer bare, when priceless works of art were spread out all over the cave walls, and then she followed Rafael to the little kitchen.