The Last Wallace

"People will expect you to say something."

"No," I insisted. "I'm not speaking at the funeral. I didn't know these people."

"We'll prepare remarks..." the CEO argued.

I cut him off. "What did I just say? No! It's not appropriate."

"Ms Wallace..." he tried again.

"What is wrong with you!?!" I screamed. "When I say I'm not doing something, I'm not doing it. Nod if you understand!"

He was obviously furious with me. His face was so red I thought he might have a stroke. He didn't. He calmed himself a bit and said, "My apologies, Ms Wallace."

I exhaled and calmed myself too. "I'm sorry for yelling, Mr Warner," I apologized. "But so far today I learned that a lot of my relatives died, flew to a town in Tennessee where I've never been before and don't know anyone, signed a bunch of papers that put me in charge of a business I know nothing about, and now we're talking about a memorial service. I can't take any more. I just can't. I'm not speaking at the service. Get people who knew them and loved them."

"Understood," he replied.

I stood. "I'm done for today. I'll come back tomorrow morning." I walked out of his office in my too fucking short dress and returned to my office to get my purse.

My new assistant had heard me scream and could see I was upset. "It will get easier," Crystal told me.

I started to cry. She shut the door so nobody else could see, and gave me a hug. "I hate this," I sobbed.

She patted my back and smiled. "You're going to be fine. Not many people can put Mr Warner in his place like that."

"Thanks," I told her and wiped my teary eyes. "Can I ask where you got your dress? I need some appropriate stuff to wear to the office because it looks like I may be here for a while."

"I got it at Bella Williams. They have the nicest things! It's at the corner of Second and Oak, a short walk from here." She sketched a map to the boutique.

I headed straight for the boutique because I had nothing to wear to the office the next day. And shopping therapy might make me feel better.

I marveled again at how enjoyable it was to walk in a town without car traffic. The Bella Williams shop was easy to find and it looked pretty fancy from the outside. Oh well, I was a rich girl and could afford anything.

Inside the shop, I was greeted by a stout woman with pitch black hair. "Welcome, I'm Bella. Let me know if I can help you find anything."

"I need dresses to wear to the office," I explained. "Crystal Abbott suggested I come here."

Bella smiled. "Crystal is a loyal customer. Are you starting a new job at the Wallace Trust?"

"Um, sort of," I replied. "I'm Ellie Wallace."

"Oh!" Bella gasped. "I'm so sorry about what happened to your family. Everyone loved the Wallaces."

"I'll, um, try to live up to their example."

"I'm sure you will."

"I'll also need something appropriate for the memorial service," I remembered.

The very nice Bella helped me find a black sheath dress made from the finest wool. It had 3/4 sleeves, a respectable neckline, and importantly it was knee-length. It was perfect for the memorial service and for the office too. I liked the dress so much that I bought three more of the same in navy blue, charcoal gray, and forest green.

Bella then convinced me to buy some classy pants for days I didn't feel like wearing a dress. I bought three pair in black, gray and tan. I also got cute sweater sets to go with them. Bella's shop had stockings and shoes, so I got them to match my outfits.

Lastly, I bought a long black wool coat. Perfect defense against winter weather while wearing office clothes.

Feeling much more confident about my wardrobe, I gushed, "Bella, you're a lifesaver. I'll be back for more soon."

"My pleasure, Ellie. It was wonderful to meet you."

I stashed my purchases back at the hotel, and changed into a comfortable sweatshirt and leggings. I hadn't eaten all day and it was nearly seven o'clock in the evening so I was ravenous.

I strolled around Central Square, which fittingly was smack dab in the center of Walkville. The square was surrounded by several restaurants, a coffeehouse, two bars, a movie theater and a concert hall. Something was happening at the concert hall that night because people were streaming into it.

I found a really good burger place and lingered over my food while seated at their bar. I sipped a beer with my meal but limited myself to just one. I had a feeling I was going to be a public figure in this town, and I didn't want a reputation as a drunk.

I must have been giving off a "don't bother me" vibe because nobody tried to talk to me. Good.

I finished dinner and wandered around the neighborhood before crashing at the hotel. I was mentally exhausted so sleep came easily, but I had an anxiety-induced nightmare in the middle of the night. In the nightmare I was alone in the dark in the Trust's offices and something was chasing me. I woke, sweating and heart racing. "Fucking hell," I swore. "I want to go home."

==

DECEMBER 8

I returned to the Wallace Trust offices at nine o'clock the next morning. I was proud of how professional I looked in my new navy blue dress, so I felt a bit more confident.

"The adult members of the Wallace family were receiving annual payments totaling $2.7 million," Jack Warner explained. "As the sole recipient of the payments now, you will receive the full amount yourself unless you want to change it."

He tossed around these big numbers like it was nothing, but it was kind of shocking to me. "Um, I don't know," I replied.

He smiled. "The financial condition of the Trust is strong enough that you could increase your payments to $5 million without causing problems."

I shook my head. "That's just crazy. I guess I'll take the $2.7 million. I'll give a bunch of it to my mom every year. That will freak her out."

Warner chuckled. "You're a good daughter."

"Speaking of money," I said, "can we use some of the profits or the reserve fund to do something in honor of everyone who died in the crash?"

He nodded. "Of course. Do you have something specific in mind?"

"Not really, but I don't want to put up a statue or a plaque. Let's do something useful."

"I'll ask the staff for ideas."

When the CEO finished my briefing for that morning, I went to my office. "Can I get you anything, Ellie?" Crystal asked.

"Can I ask you some questions about Wallace Town?"

"Of course."

"Do the residents have cars? And if so where do they keep them?"

"About half own cars. There are parking lots just outside the eight town gates."

"How do the people who don't own cars get around when they're outside of town?"

"Taxi or Uber usually. The regional bus system comes to Walkville, but the service isn't great. There is also a nice bike trail that goes from here to downtown Knoxville."

"I think I'll try to live without a car for a while," I told Crystal. "I hated driving back home. The traffic was horrible."

"I haven't had a car in six years," she said. "It works for me."

"What about the police, firemen and paramedics? Do they have cars or trucks?"

"Yes. You'll see them on the streets sometimes. Those services are provided by Knox County, and paid for by our property taxes. We have a police station, fire station and hospital in town."

"What about deliveries from the post office or UPS or whatever? Are their trucks allowed in town?"

"No," Crystal replied. "There are eight mail centers located around the edge of town. All deliveries go to the mail centers. Everyone has a mailbox at one of the centers, and there are lockers for bigger packages."

"That's interesting. There's no home delivery of mail?"

"Nope. You get used to it. And at least we don't have to worry about porch pirates."

"Do the residents work in town or do they commute to elsewhere?"

"The majority work in town. There are actually more jobs at companies in Wallace Town than there are working age residents. The waiting list to rent apartments gives priority to people who have jobs here."

"Okay. Thanks, Crystal," I told her. "That's all the questions I have for now, but I'm sure there will be more."

"That's what I'm here for, Ellie." She changed the subject, "A free apartment is provided to Wallace family members who choose to live here. I'll arrange a tour of available units, if you'd like to see them."

"Yes, please. The hotel is nice but I don't want to live there for long."

"By far the best apartments available are the ones that were your grandparents' and your father's. Do you want to consider those? I assume you'll inherit the entire contents of both apartments too."

I hadn't thought about inheriting their stuff. "Yeah, I guess I want to see them. If it feels too weird, I'll live somewhere else but I might as well get a look at the things I'm inheriting."

Crystal took me to the Walkville apartment rental office to get keys for my grandparents' and father's apartments. The rental office was surprisingly fancy and reminded me of a busy bank. People went there to find an apartment, make a payment or request maintenance.

"Is it true this is the first time you've ever been to Wallace City?" Crystal inquired as we walked.

"Yep. I was born in Maryland," I told her. "My father had an affair and divorced my mother while she was pregnant with me. She didn't want anything to do with the Wallaces or Wallace Town after that. And neither did I."

We arrived at our first destination. "Your father's apartment is in this building," she said. It was a stately six-story brick building in the center of downtown.

My father's apartment was starkly minimalist. Black walls and trim. Pale oak floors. A few pieces of angular modern furniture. It looked like something out of an architecture magazine but it was far from inviting or cozy.

I didn't see any personal photos or anything personal at all actually except for his expensive clothes in the closets.

What a strange man.

"What do you think?" Crystal asked.

"The location in the center of town is convenient but I'd have to redecorate the whole thing because it looks bleak." I paused and added, "My father didn't leave many clues about his life."

"Jeffrey was the black sheep of your family. He didn't get involved in the town and had a reputation as a heavy drinker," Crystal informed me. "He never remarried."

I wondered if I inherited my tendency to get drunk from my jackass father. "Let's go see my grandparents' apartment," I suggested.

We rode a trolley from the center of town out to the edge that bordered the Tennessee River. My grandparents' penthouse apartment occupied the entire top floor of an eight-story building next to the river.

"Oh my god," I gasped when I walked in.

The living room was huge, with high ceilings and ten big windows overlooking the river. French doors opened onto a spacious balcony. The decor was very traditional. The wood trim was ornate and the furniture oversize and plush. A collection of landscape paintings hung on the walls.

The large kitchen had warm red walls, white cabinetry, and marble countertops.

The master bedroom was almost comically big. Naturally there was a king-size four-poster bed. The master bathroom was marble everywhere. The two guest bedrooms were almost as nice.

Personal stuff like family photos, mementos and books were scattered about. You could tell people lived there, unlike my father's apartment.

"I love it," I told Crystal. "Can I move right in?" I'd worried that being around my deceased relatives' things might be creepy, but for some reason my grandparents' stuff felt comforting and welcoming.

"Certainly," she answered and handed me the key. "I'll take care of the paperwork at the rental office."

I smiled. "That was easy. I can't wait to show my mom this place. She'll go nuts."

When I was back at the office, Trevor, the lead singer of the band I was in, called my cell. "A reporter from a newspaper in Tennessee contacted me, looking for information about you," he said. "Did you really inherit a fortune?"

"Yeah, I did. What did you tell them?" I asked.

"I only told her about the band. Nothing embarrassing, I promise. I don't know anything about your personal life, Ellie. You don't share much."

"I guess not. Sorry about that."

"What's it like being rich?"

"You knew I had money, Trevor."

"But now you're, like, a lot richer, right?"

I sighed. "Yeah. I've got a lot of new responsibilities too."

"Oh. That sucks," he commiserated.

"Look, Trevor, I'm moving down here so I have to quit the band. Thanks for letting me play with you guys. You're a good friend."

"It was our pleasure, Ellie. When you're up our way, come see us, okay? We'll miss you."

==

DECEMBER 9

The memorial service for the people who died in the plane crash was held at an amphitheater on the edge of town. I purposely didn't arrive until the last minute. This was going to be bad enough without listening to hundreds of condolences.

The amphitheater was filled with thousands of people. It was a sea of black and the atmosphere was solemn, matched by the sullen dark clouds overhead.

I was led down to front row center. I felt eyes on me as I walked. My seat was between Jack Warner and Crystal Abbott. "Thanks," I sincerely told them. "I thought I might have to sit with people I didn't know."

Crystal patted my hand.

The memorial service was tough. Photos of the dead were projected on a big screen across the back of the stage. The adults were bad enough, but when I looked at the photos of the kids I felt a wall of grief land on my shoulders.

Tears rolled down my cheeks. I didn't really hear the service because my heartbeat drummed in my ears.

Grief mutated into anxiety that squeezed my heart. What was I doing here, I wondered? I didn't know the dead. I was never really a part of the family. I wasn't a real Wallace.

Rain began to fall in fat drops. Of course it had to rain, I inwardly groaned. Lousy fucking day.

Umbrellas popped up all around the amphitheater. I didn't have one but Jack sheltered me under his.

The service soon ended. People tried to engage me, but I ignored them and hurried out. I left through a side entrance and wandered around town, not caring where I was going.

I walked past attractive single family homes, apartment buildings and businesses. Christmas lights were everywhere.

It felt good to be alone for a while. I didn't think about dead people, money, or employees. I walked until I realized I was soaked to the skin and shivering uncontrollably.

I found my way to the hotel, stripped off my wet clothes, and sank into a steamy hot bath. Bliss.

After my long soak, I dressed in a hoodie and jeans and went to a coffeehouse down the street from the hotel.

I sat at a table by the windows and sipped my coffee while watching the world go by. Sunlight broke through the clouds to warm me.

A girl with long red hair walked in. A spray of freckles dotted her cheeks and nose. She was tall and slim, like me, and a tight little butt filled out her jeans. Exactly the kind of girl that stoked my fires. Maybe living here wouldn't be so bad.

She got coffee and looked around for a place to sit. She glanced at me, then did a double-take and just stood there staring at me. Her eyes got wide and she blushed because I was staring at her too.

She came to my table and asked in a very uncertain voice, "Are you Ellie Wallace?"

"Uh huh," I confirmed. I didn't like that I'd been recognized, but she was cute as hell so I went with the flow.

The redheaded girl blushed deeper red and asked, "Can I sit with you? I need to tell you something."

This was getting weird, but I nodded and replied, "Okay."

The girl took the other seat at my table. Sunlight streaming through the window lit up her red hair and highlighted the freckles on her cheeks and nose. I wished I had hair like hers. The freckles were adorable too. What a beauty.

She looked around to see if we'd be overheard. Nobody else was nearby, so she told a story. "My momma died a couple years ago from cancer. Before she passed, she told me my dad isn't my real father. My biological father was Jeffrey Wallace."

My jaw dropped. "You have to be fucking kidding me. That's my father."

She nodded. "We're half-sisters."

"Oh my god," I gasped.

"Momma was embarrassed when she told me she had an affair, but she thought I should know. She had no reason to lie, but I don't expect you to believe me without proof. I'll take a DNA test if you want."

I was in shock, but something occurred to me. "How old are you?" I inquired.

"Nineteen," she informed me. From the way she answered, I guessed she knew what that meant.

"You should be getting your inheritance from the Wallace Trust, just like me. Why aren't you?"

The girl shook her head defiantly. "I can't! Nobody can know. It would kill Dad if he knew Momma had an affair and I'm not his real daughter. Promise me you won't tell anyone. Please?"

"I won't tell," I promised. "But why did you tell me your secret?"

Her cute blush returned. "I always wanted a sister. I wanted to know what it felt like. I guess that's dumb."

I smiled. "It's not dumb. I always wanted a sister too."

She smiled bashfully and we stared at each other for a long moment. "Do you believe me?" she hesitantly asked.

"Yes," I honestly answered. "But I want a DNA test."

She nodded. "Of course."

"I'm not the last Wallace," I stated in kind of a daze.

"As far as anyone else knows, you are. Remember, you promised."

"Don't worry. I won't tell. What's your name?"

"Oh! I'm sorry. I'm Daria. Daria Milko."

"Pleased to meet you, Daria," I told her and leaned in for a hug. She was stiff for a moment, then returned the hug warmly. "Why didn't you contact me before?" I asked.

"After Momma told me about Jeffrey Wallace, I googled him. I found a couple references to his ex-wife and you. But when I googled you, I didn't find hardly anything. Don't you use social media?"

I shook my head. "I don't like it."

"Anyway, I thought it would be too weird to call you out of the blue, so I never expected to meet you," Daria continued. "I mean, I thought you'd probably come to Walkville someday, but the chances of us crossing paths were slim. Then the plane crash happened and I heard on the news that you inherited everything and you were here. I wanted to call you, but I was chicken and I figured you were busy. So when I saw you sitting here I knew I had to take the opportunity to talk to you."

"I'm glad you did," I told her with a smile. "Did you go to the memorial service?"

"No. He wasn't at Momma's funeral so I sure wasn't going to his. How was it?"

"It was sad and the whole time I wished I was anywhere else. Do you live here?"

She shook her head. "Me and my dad live in a trailer a few miles outside of town. I work here though. I'm a waitress at the Cedar Street Deli." She pointed at a restaurant across the street.

"Let's take a walk and talk," I suggested. "Unless you have to be somewhere."

She smiled and relaxed a bit. "A walk is fine with me."

"I wonder if Jeffrey was having an affair with your mom while he was married to my mom?" I asked. "Mom says she caught him cheating."

"Probably. I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry about. Our father was the idiot, not you."

"He seems like an asshole," she agreed.

I laughed. "That's what Mom called him."

"I'm glad I grew up with my dad instead of Jeffrey Wallace, even though we were poor."

"You were probably better off," I concurred.

We told each other about our childhoods and our parents. I liked Daria immediately. She was friendly and innocent. It was a shame we were sisters, because I could easily crush on the girl.

We googled DNA tests and learned there was a lab at the town's hospital where we could get a test kit. Saliva samples were all that was needed and the test was done anonymously. We'd have the results back from the lab in 24 hours.