“Yeah, I thought it was a good haircut for a future mom to have. I got it pressed out and everything.” I smile, but Anna looks at me with huge, sad eyes. “It’s okay, Anna. Really.” I wipe my eyes again and sip at some of the cocoa. “I’ll get over it, like always. And I could meet someone else—”
“Yes. You’re beautiful and funny, and you’re an amazing artist. You deserved better than Eli.”
“I know.” I shift in the chair and take a long swig from my mug. I’d rather be painting, the mug reads. Well, not right now. I’d rather be doing anything but painting. I’d rather sit in a chair and stare at a wall than do something productive. “It just feels like I’m out of chances after all this.” I sip the rest of the cocoa while Anna watches and remains silent. The sobs threaten to rise again. But I remind myself that this was just a failed implantation, that it’s not the end of the world. “What I need to concentrate on is finding a project that will help me keep my apartment.”
Anna’s face brightens. “About that... have you ever been to New Mexico?” I raise an eyebrow. I might have been through the airport in Santa Fe one time, but it might have been Austin. And I’m fairly certain that Texas and New Mexico aren’t the same state, so I shake my head.
“Why, what’s this about? You know I don’t leave the state for projects. I’m a New York artist. That’s my appeal.”
“But it could help you to get away for a bit—don’t deny it.” She puts her cool hand on my arm and holds it there. I won’t deny it, not right out the gate. It could be good. “I wasn’t going to tell you about it... but the more I think about it... this could be good, very good.” Anna’s eyes are starting to light up the way they do when she gets an idea for a new installment or a way to reach out to new clients.
“What? Tell me what’s good.” I shift in the chair, and nervous excitement starts to rise in my belly, replacing a little bit of that empty, cramping feeling that I’m all too familiar with after a failed egg transfer. The prospect of a project, even if it’s outside of the state—well, especially if it’s outside of the state—seems tempting at this very moment. And hell, isn’t New Mexico warmer than New York? I purse my lips and try to think. I have no damn clue.
Maybe if I can get the hell out, I can get the hell better. No Eli, no doctors, just me and a few buckets of paint. A new client, a new place. For a little while.
“It’s this guy who’s been calling about a mural artist—”
“I do paint murals.”
“And you’re good. This guy wants a good artist, and he’s willing to pay big. $50,000 up front and $50,000 after completion.” Anna smiles and nods like she can’t quite believe the words she’s saying. Her tiny diamond nose ring glints in the warm glow of the studio light.
“What the—”
“And he’ll put you up the whole time. He owns a giant ranch and a few different oil fields—”
“So I’d be staying at his house?”
“Guest house, I think. He’s got one on his ranch. Or something like that. I think he said it’s being repaired? But he’s a billionaire, so I bet he has a pretty nice house.”
“Hotel is preferable,” I say. I guess I’m sneering a little at the thought of staying with some man I don’t know because Anna starts to laugh and covers her mouth with her hand. Even if I do like the idea of being away from town for a month or so, I don’t like the idea of being alone in a house with a strange man, especially at Christmas. After Eli and the failed pregnancy, I’ll need my grieving to happen in quiet. And often, even when a man isn’t speaking, he’s anything but quiet. Just being around another person feels like it might be too loud right now. Maybe staying out on one of his ranch houses or whatever he has will be exactly what I need. And if he’s got all that much money, maybe he could get it fixed up quick.
“I think he’s out in the middle of nowhere, Caddy. Not many hotels. Maybe none. Now, let me tell you more about this project—”
“I don’t care,” I say. The words feel strange when they come out of my mouth, especially when I find that they are in fact true. “I’ll go.” Anna draws me into a tight hug and pulls me close again, nearly knocking the empty hot chocolate mug out of my hand.
Right now, I need to earn rent. This guy’s got it. And maybe I can sell him on the idea of a hotel in town, wherever the hell the town is, anyway.