Chapter 21

A week had passed since Tallulah played the album for Lily. She'd been to the shelter to speak with her again, but no one had seen her. It was as if she'd disappeared. She was at Marigold daily, waiting for Lily to show up, but she never did.

She'd started the article at least 10 times but found herself stuck. She needed to tell Sharon. She sat in front of her computer, waiting for Sharon to contact her. Michael had left early that morning to finish the layout. She took a sip of her coffee and waited. After several moments of silence, her computer chimed. She clicked it on, and Sharon appeared on her screen.

"Hi, Tallulah," she said.

She smiled back. "Hi, Sharon. How did you like the article on diet fads? Who knew there were so many?" she said.

Sharon laughed. "Yes, we love to find new ways to lose weight. I read it. It's good. I really like how you did the pros and cons."

"You look down today, Tallulah," she said. "I mean, the last few times we connected, you seemed in better spirits. Anything I can do?"

She sighed. "Well, it's my homeless shelter article. It's been more difficult than I expected." "Well, sometimes those hard stories are the best stories. Is the article done?"

"No, not yet. I seem to have a block or something. It's complicated. I have a great story, but…"

Sharon cocked her head to one side. "What is it?"

"Well, the shelter I'm writing about is really in financial trouble. They had a large donation, but for whatever reason, the donation was taken back. My editor wanted me to go with that angle, but I went with something a little different. I thought I'd focus on the people who use the shelter, depend on it. Maybe highlight their stories. So anyway, I kinda took to one lady, Lily. Sharon, she has the most beautiful singing voice. But…well, there's a problem."

She noticed Sharon's facial expression changed when she mentioned the donation and homeless shelter.

"Are you okay, Sharon? You look…flushed."

She shook her head. "I'm okay. Tallulah, what's the name of the shelter?" "Marigold," she replied.

"And this donation, do you know where it came from or who was donating?" "No, but…well, I do have something I want to tell you."

Sharon sat up in her chair. She felt her stomach quiver. "Tallulah, can you hold on a moment? I want to shut my door."

Sharon came back to her desk and pulled out a large folder.

"Okay, what do you need to tell me?"

"Well, the homeless lady, Lily…well, I think…well, she says she's Sylvia Blass's half-sister."

Sharon sat speechless for a moment. Her jaw dropped slightly. She looked down at her folder and shuffled through some papers.

"I think she may be," said Sharon.

"What? Wait, how do you know?"

"We need to speak in person," Sharon said calmly.

"Wait, what?" Tallulah said.

"It's a long story, and I'd prefer we meet. I can come to you. It's important, Tallulah."

"Wait, if you're going to let me go because of Sylvia Blass…" Tallulah started, but Sharon interrupted her.

"No, that's not it. It's a long story, but I think we can help one another. I can be there in two days."

Tallulah was confused. "I was trying to figure out how to let you know about what I'd found, which is one of the reasons the article isn't one. I mean, I work for Sylvia Blass."

"Don't worry, Tallulah. I'll explain everything when I arrive. I need to go. I'll see you in two days. We can arrange a place to meet. I'll have my assistant reach out to you."

"Okay, but I don't understand, Sharon."

"I know. I'll explain everything when I see you. Thank you, Tallulah. I'll see you in a few days." With that, Sharon clicked off, and Tallulah's screen went blank.

She sat there, looking at the screen. "Oh, shit," she said out loud.

Sharon clicked off the computer and looked at the folder on her desk. She slowly opened it and scanned the first page. The private investigator had found most of the information she requested quickly. He was able to obtain birth records and copies of Cliff Blass's wills.

She turned to the pages of the will and stopped where it talked about children. It read as follows:

I do attest that I have 3 children. My children are Sylvia Blass, Clyde Duke, and Lillian (Lily) Duke. All three children will be provided funds from my estate when they are of the legal age of 18 years old.

To Clyde and Lily: I know you may not understand, but I always loved you. I loved your mother. I know I was not there for you, but I always wanted to be in your life. Now that I am gone, I want you to know who your father was. I have signed each of your birth certificates. Copies of the birth certificates will be provided to you. I have provided a check for $500,000, payable immediately on your 18th birthday. These monies will be split between the two of you.

She put down the page, then shuffled through the pages until she came to the article regarding the death of Clyde Duke.

September 15, 1962

One Black male is dead after he slid off the road at the Forest Junction. The man, who has been identified as Clyde Duke, 22, was killed immediately and pronounced dead at the scene. Police are investigating rumors of foul play, but no arrests have been made.

She sighed heavily and put down the article. She shuffled to a few more papers until she found the birth certificates of Lily Duke and Lily Blass. The private investigator had told her Lily Duke had moved from place to place since the death of her brother. Her mother died in 1965 after being hit by a car. Again, he told her the police suspected foul play, but the investigation was brief, and no arrests were made.

He then told her the last known address for Lily Duke was about six years ago; after that, nothing. The money the twins had inherited had disappeared as well. All Clyde's accounts were closed, and he couldn't find an account for Lily Duke. Sharon had asked him to search under Lily Blass, but she hadn't received any information yet.

She picked up her phone and called her assistant.

"Yes, Mrs. Eckerson?" Patty said through the phone.

"Patty, I need you to make some travel arrangements for me. I'll be out of the office for the next week."

Sylvia Blass sat in the large leather chair. The room was brightly lit, with large windows directly to her right side. She shifted in the chair and crossed her legs. She was starting to become impatient when suddenly the door opened from behind her and she heard a woman's voice. "Sylvia, I'm so sorry to keep you waiting."

She slightly turned in her chair to see a short Black woman walking toward her.

She gasped. "Oh, who the hell are you? I'm waiting to speak with Mr. Meyers, my attorney, if you don't mind. If you're the paralegal, then you're wasting both of our time!" she huffed at the woman.

The Black woman smiled at her and sat behind a very large oak desk. She looked at her and placed a black folder on the desk.

"Mrs. Blass, Mr. Meyers requested me to see you. He had some urgent business out of town and will not be back for several weeks. Now, you can wait for his return, but from what I was told, you said the matter is urgent. My name is Carla. Carla Avery. I handle all of Mr. Meyers's…special clients, like yourself, when he's away."

Sylvia scowled at Carla. "Do you know why I'm here?"

"I do. It seems you had some connections with a trust fund being illegally accessed. This, as you know, is a crime. It would seem you used resources outside of this firm to gain access, and now you want us to fix it. Is that correct?"

Sylvia nodded her head.

"It would also seem this trust fund actually belongs to your half-sister, Lillian Blass. This is the name on the fund, correct?" Carla asked.

Sylvia again nodded her head.

"Now Mrs. Blass, the firm is willing to assist you in this matter, as you and Mr. Meyers have made an arrangement. I'm here to reestablish the trust. I don't care to know about anything beyond that. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I completely understand. I was, however, wondering about Mr. Meyers's choice in employees. Did you go to law school, or are you a paralegal? I mean, really, matters such as these cannot be handled by just anyone. I mean, you people are known for being loud and lazy," she said, sitting up straight in her chair to show she was in control.

Carla made direct eye contact with her. "Mrs. Blass. Please know that I am a Yale Law graduate, top of my class. I've practiced law for 10 years, exclusively with Mr. Meyers and his firm. Your comment only reveals the ignorance you have toward men and women of color. I am more than happy to let Mr. Meyers know you chose to go a different way. As I said, he won't be available for the next few weeks. How would you like to proceed?" Her voice was cool and calm. She sat back and waited for an answer.

Sylvia was speechless. She stared at Carla as she shifted in her chair.

"Okay, Ms. Avery, you said? Well, this matter is of great importance to me. I don't want to see any delay. My comments were…were…short-sighted."

"Fine, Ms. Blass. Once I've collected all the information required, I'll begin to work towards re-establishing the trust. I'll also need to know where the money went. Your full cooperation is necessary in this process. I will not tolerate being lied to. I assure you, I am not loud or lazy and will not tolerate any further remarks regarding my ethnicity. Any stereotypes you have playing out in your head…well, you need to keep them there. I'm a professional and will be treated as such. If you feel you cannot speak with me with respect, then we need to end our discussions now. Do you understand, Mrs. Blass?"

Sylvia nodded her head, then sighed and said. "Yes, yes, I will cooperate. I just need this to go away."

"Great," Carla said. "Let's begin."

Lily walked into the bank. Unlike the previous bank she'd entered, no one stopped her. She walked up to the counter and spoke softly to the teller.

"I need to get into my safety deposit box," she said.

The teller looked up. She was smiling until she saw Lily, then her smile quickly turned into a frown.

"Ah, OK. I'll need to see your ID and the key."

Lily dug deep into her pocket, pulled out her worn ID, and laid it on the counter. She then took a chain from around her neck. On the chain was a key. She laid that on the counter, too.

The teller looked at the ID and key and told Lily to wait there. She came around the counter and escorted them to the room where the boxes were kept. She found Lily's box and placed it on a table, then nodded and left the room.

When Lily was alone, she sat down and unlocked the box. Inside were documents, newspaper clippings, jewelry, and money.

She stared at the money and glided her hand over the top of the bills. They were all hundreds. She picked up a stack and counted out 10 one hundred dollar bills, then placed the stack back in the box and closed it. She locked the box and left the room.

Once outside the bank, she walked a few blocks to a small motel, where she rented a room for the week.

"Do you know where I can find a cheap clothing store?" she asked the motel clerk.

He looked at her and said, "Ain't no mall around here, but there is a thrift store 'bout 3 blocks west."

She thanked him and left the motel, then walked to the thrift store and went inside. She searched the rows of clothing racks and found a few dresses, jeans, shirts, a coat, a new package of unopened socks, panties, and a bra. She decided to get a pair of sneakers, too. She purchased her clothes and walked back to the motel.

The room was small, but it had a bed, phone, TV, and small microwave. She wandered into the bathroom and found clean towels and soap. She went back into the main room and began to undress. She wanted to shower; it had been over a week since she was able to change her clothes. She put the dirty clothes into one of the shopping bags she got from the thrift store, then threw it in the trash.

The shower was hot. She let the water flow over her body, then rubbed the soap all over herself and watched as the suds and dirt went down the drain. She took the soap and washed her hair. When she was done, she stepped out and wrapped a towel around her body, then wiped her hand across the steamed mirror until she could see her reflection.

She barely recognized the face staring back at her in the mirror. She moved her hands through her hair, rubbed her face, and pushed out her lips. As she stared at herself, she had the desire to sing. So, she filled the entire room with her voice.

Praise Him

Praise Him

Praise Him

Praise Him

Jesus, blessed Savior,

He's worthy to be praised.

From the rising of the sun,

Until the going down of the same;

He's worthy, Jesus is worthy,

He's worthy to be praised

She stopped singing and looked at herself in the mirror.

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