"Usually people who give galleries like recognition."
Twice a week, a quiet and tastefully dressed woman showed up at the Museum of Fine Arts in St. Petersburg, a black ribbon on her lapel.
Kathryn Stenquist had no relatives anyone knew of and lived alone in St. Pete Beach, where she enjoyed long walks on the sand. She had her own volunteer's desk at the museum, and a regular job updating membership information.
"I don't think she had a lot of friends, and the museum was kind of her social outlet," said former membership and volunteer director Donna Fletcher, who described Mrs. Stenquist as "very much a lady."
Over time, the museum staff became like a family to her. She eventually told Fletcher she wore the ribbon to remember her husband, William Stenquist, who died in 1990. They had shared an appreciation for art, traveling to the great museums of Europe, where they lived for a time.
"I was always aware of how much she missed the love of her life, which was her husband," Fletcher said.
Fellow volunteers and museum staff members knew she valued her privacy — Mrs. Stenquist attended no museum parties or galas. But she was at ease with all sorts of people — she chatted as easily about art with the chief curator as she did with the janitor about sports.
She also gave the impression of modesty: She drove a Buick Regal, wore understated jewelry and refused to wear clothes that needed to be dry-cleaned.
But in 1994, co-workers learned something else about Mrs. Stenquist: She was wealthy.
Read more at the St. Petersburg Times.