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“I can’t really discuss the case, to protect my client, but I can tell you that he and the children are fine.”
A heavy sigh of relief left Rose as she dropped her hand to her breast and slumped her shoulders. “That’s so good to hear.”
“Did you happen to know Mr. Spring’s wife, Brenda?”
“Oh, yes! We frequently volunteered together here at the Conservatory on Thursdays and Sundays, though I think she was here more often than that during the week.”
Shane took a moment to quickly glance around the room before smiling gently down at the woman while at the same time fighting to hide the buzz of excitement that was ripping through him. “Do you have a moment to chat with us?” He motioned toward a bench in the far corner of the room, tucked underneath the boughs of a lemon tree.
“Of course.”
Letting Rose precede him, Shane gave a little nod to Quinn, who dropped back a bit, pretending to look at the displays while remaining within earshot of their conversation. Shane sat down on the bench next to Rose, placing his elbows on his knees and folding his hands together.
“Can you tell me about Mrs. Spring? Did you know her long?”
“Brenda was the sweetest woman I have ever met,” Rose started, pausing for a second to shake her head. “It broke my heart when I heard that she’d passed in that horrible accident. We met here, actually. I had just retired from teaching, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. My husband suggested volunteering here since I loved the old place so much and needed to get out of the house at least a few days a week.”
“Did Brenda start here at the same time?” Shane carefully asked, drawing Rose back to their topic.
“Oh no. She’d been volunteering here for years. She loved the history of this place and knew each flower and tree as if they were her own children. She led the committee that redesigned the water features in the Tropical House, and she was behind the fundraising for the new bridge in the Palm House. She also worked on rounding up new art for display each season. She believed in showcasing the talents of the local artists.”
“Do you know if she was particularly close with any other volunteers or employees here?”
Rose pursed her lips together as she stared at the terra-cotta brown floor. “Kate Masters, but she was just a sweet and friendly person. She talked with everyone who worked with her.”
“Were you and Brenda close?”
“Fairly close, you could say. We always worked the same rooms when we were here on the same days. Met for lunch a few times before our shifts. Oh, and when my husband was recovering from his hernia surgery, she stopped by the house, dropping off this wonderful casserole and stew to help with dinners since I couldn’t get out.”
“Did she ever mention to you that she was unhappy in her marriage? Or maybe that she was having trouble with her husband?”
“Oh no! Never,” Rose said on a horrified gasp. “Now, she didn’t talk about her husband much, but then not long after we met, he was elected mayor. You couldn’t expect her to talk about such an important man. We didn’t gossip.”
“Of course not. I didn’t mean to imply,” Shane quickly backpedaled and Rose relaxed again.
“She talked more about her kids. She was so proud of them. Glad they were in a good school and had friends.”
“So you’d say she was happy…”
“Yes…”
“But?”
Rose took in a deep breath and then slowly released it. “I don’t think it was that she was unhappy. But there were times where she seemed…tired. Melancholy. You know what I mean?”
“I think so.”
“I always thought it was because her husband’s job was so stressful. She probably didn’t see him as much as she’d like. But she had the kids and she loved this place so much.”
“Do you happen to have a picture of her I could see?”
“I don’t know…I—oh! Actually, she sent me a copy of one that we took not long before she passed. It was a little party they had for the volunteers right before they revealed the annual holiday display.” Rose stood and pulled her smartphone out of her pocket. With surprisingly nimble fingers, she dug through the various screens, searching for the picture.
With a sad sigh, she turned the screen toward Shane. “Here we go.”
The picture was taken in that exact spot with Rose and another woman sitting on the bench, while four people stood behind it. “That’s Sharon Turnbull, the director,” Rose said, pointing to the woman on the bench next to Rose. “And you’ve met Kelley already.” She was the first from the left, standing right next to Brenda. “And that’s Dr. Kate Masters. She’s the chief horticulturist here, but her specialty is orchids,” she explained, pointing to the woman on the other side of Brenda. Rose paused again and Shane didn’t miss the sad smile that pulled at her thin lips. “Those two…they were just two peas in a pod. Brenda was the only person that could get Kate to laugh. But then, Brenda just had a way with people. Austin adored her,” she said, pointing again at the one man in the picture who was standing beside Dr. Masters.
