“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.”