Bree’s entire demeanor changed. The excitement drained from her face and her posture became rigid.
“I don’t have to decide what to do about Ed, if that’s what you mean by unfinished business,” she said. “I spoke with Bridgette Burkhoffer before dinner. The hospital buried Ed two days ago. They ran out of room in the morgue, so they laid him to rest in the public cemetery. He’s not my responsibility anymore.”
“Will they send his personal effects to you?” Cameron asked.
“I gave Bridgette my permission to throw them into the hospital’s incinerator,” Bree said coldly.
Cameron looked taken aback, but I caught his eye and shook my head minutely, as a signal to leave well enough alone. If Bree had to answer one more question about her late, unlamented father, I was certain she would lose it.
“There’s the apartment in Takapuna,” he went on hesitantly. “The family photographs, your computer . . .”
“I don’t want them,” she said stiffly. “I copied the files I need and I have the photographs I want. I don’t care what happens to the rest. I’m never going back to the apartment.”
“Leave it to me,” said Cameron with a casual wave of his hand. “I’ll call the landlady in the morning and instruct her to donate the flat’s contents to an op shop. Though it pains me to give her a reason to smile, I’ll also let her know that she’s at liberty to rent the dump to another victim—er, I mean, tenant.”
“Thank you,” said Bree, defrosting slightly.
“Do you have a passport?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I needed one for a class trip to Australia.”
“Use it again for a personal trip to England,” I said. “It would mean an awful lot to Ruth and Louise.”
“I don’t know.” Bree rubbed her tattooed arms self-consciously. “What if I scare them?”
“Scare them?” I scoffed. “They’re gardeners. They see a hundred things scarier than you every time they poke a spade into the dirt.”
Bree managed a weak smile but she still looked doubtful.
“It must feel like everything’s coming at you at a hundred miles an hour,” I said gently, “and heaven knows I don’t want to pressure you, but the simple truth is that Ruth and Louise may not have a whole lot of time left. They’ve been improving steadily for the past few days, but if you ask me, it’s a temporary reprieve. No one lives forever. I think they’re holding on because of you.”
“No pressure there,” Bree said dryly, leaning her chin on her hand.
“You don’t have to move to England permanently,” I said. “You can make your visit as long or as short as you like. God’s own country will be waiting for you when you come back—unless it explodes, or cracks into pieces, or blows away.”
Bree’s smile widened infinitesimally.
“I don’t want to pressure you, either,” said Cameron, “but when someone pulls you from a burning building, you don’t stop to say, ‘Wait. This is all so sudden.’ You let yourself be rescued, then say”—his eyes found mine—“ ‘Thank you for saving my life.’ ”
My jaw dropped as his words clicked into place.
“Is that what happened?” I cried, making heads swivel in our direction.
Cameron nodded. “An electrical short started a fire in our dorm. I tried to escape down a stairwell, but I was overcome by smoke. If Bill hadn’t found me and dragged me outside, I would have burned to death.”
“Who’s Bill?” Bree asked.
“My husband,” I said, gazing across Lake Wakatipu. “My heroic husband.”
“Bree,” said Cameron, “your great-grandaunts have thrown you a lifeline. I suggest you grab hold of it. Lori and I are staying at the Novotel. You can reach us there when you decide—”
“I’ll come,” she said abruptly.
“You will?” I said, caught off guard by her sudden change of heart.
“Yes,” she said. “I’d like to thank my great-grandaunts in person. And I . . . I need to get away.” After a tremulous pause, her manner became businesslike. “I’ll pack tonight and call Holly in the morning. I’ll be ready to leave by half past eight. Shall I meet you at the hotel?”
“Meet us for breakfast in the hotel restaurant,” I told her. “You can stash your gear in my room until we check out. If for some unforeseen reason we have to stick around for an extra night, you can crash with me.”
“At the Novotel?” Bree said, her eyes widening. “It’ll make a change from the youth hostel.”
“A nice change, I hope,” I said.
“A very nice change,” she assured me.
“I’ll make the travel arrangements tonight,” said Cameron with a decisive nod. “If I can snag seats for the pair of you, you’ll be on your way to England tomorrow evening.”
We sent Bree off in a taxi after dinner, then hurried through the frigid night air to our hotel. I gave Cameron a synopsis of Bree’s story over steaming cups of hot cocoa in the bar.
“Ironic,” he said when I’d finished.