“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.”