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.