She was sure of that.
She texted Logan and told him she was going to find food. Then, without waiting for him, she took the short walk to historic Santa Fe, and left her problems back at the Silver Saddle.
THIRTEEN
She spent the day hunting around Santa Fe, and found some beautiful jewelry and more clothes she didn’t need, but she was sightseeing. So.
They’d packed the car up that morning, and Logan had gone off to do whatever he found enjoyable while he’d dropped her off in a central, walkable locale at her request.
He’d offered to leave her the car, but she liked walking.
She went to two different art museums that she never would have been able to go to if she was traveling with her family.
It was mostly very enjoyable, though she decided she still didn’t get modern art. But she’d come to that conclusion without her kids shrieking about it looking like a sneeze or a penis, while she tried not to laugh and Will “rested his eyes” over on a bench by the water fountain.
Always nice to confirm those things for yourself.
Around two, Logan texted her.
Time to head to Amarillo.
She gave him her location, and he came by to pick her up fifteen minutes later. She was wearing her new earrings and necklace, all made from rough-cut gems.
“Those are nice,” he said.
“Thanks,” she said. “I got the necklace at the last art museum I went to.”
“I wish I would have known you were doing museums.”
“You…like museums?”
They started down the highway, and he put the top down on the car, the wind whipping hot and dry around them.
She took her hair band off her wrist and quickly tied her hair up—she’d learned that was a must in a convertible, at least for her sanity—and took the top-down wind tunnel sound as her cue to enjoy the scenery rather than the conversation.
But to her surprise, he answered her question over the sound of the wind. “Yes, I do.”
“Really?” She turned to look at him.
He shrugged. “Life is weird. Museums are often a nicely displayed collection of that weirdness.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
“Yep. Bagged and tagged strangeness in display cases.”
She thought about the time she’d been to a museum display up in Portland that’d had mummies, and how distinctly it’d hit her that it was such a messed-up, wrong thing to have displays of. It was grave robbery. If it taught her anything about human beings, it was more that they were considered acceptable displays.
“That is true,” she said. “These were art museums, though.”
“Even better. What people decide to paint or sculpt is very telling. Not just about them, but about humanity.”
“I guess the same is true for what articles a person writes,” she said, circling back to their earlier conversation about her writing.
It said a lot about what her life centered around, that was for sure.
“And the cars they choose to collect,” he said. “What we spend time and money on is who we are.”
“I guess today I’m art and overpriced jewelry?”
