by Riley Walker
I watch Uncle Richie begin to turn an interesting shade of red before he shakes his head. “No. Now that I think about it, I believe I have a copy of what I need back at the office. I can just go there and get it.”
Before he can cross the threshold, I stop him one more time. “Do you want me to call you after I have all the funeral arrangements made?”
I hear him take a deep breath before answering me. “That would be appreciated. Goodbye, Alice.”
As soon as I hear the front door close behind him, I lean back and close my eyes. Dad always warned me to watch out for his brother. Of course they got along and worked together, but Dad never did trust him. Something tells me he wasn’t in here searching for some realtor’s information. Question is, what exactly was he looking for?
Zoe is walking down the stairs as I walk out of Dad’s office. Somehow I manage to smile at her. She says, “Are you ready to go to the funeral home?”
I straighten my shoulders and nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Uh-oh, I know that look. What’s wrong?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I found Uncle Richie going through Dad’s desk and he was acting shifty. He had an excuse about realtor papers, but I don’t buy it.”
Zoe grabs my arm as I’m walking out the door. “I don’t trust that man, Al. I would keep an eye on him. He has always rubbed me the wrong way.” I nod my head because at that moment, I couldn’t agree with her more.
We reach Boller Funeral Home and Zoe has to practically drag me out of my Accord. We’re met at the door by Mr. Boller, himself. He’s an older gentlemen with receding, grey hair, an overlapping gut, and a typical black suit. He steers us into his office and proceeds to go over the funeral arrangements set up by my dad a few years earlier. Daniel Du-Kane was very strict about what he wanted. No open caskets, no church service, and no tears. We’re having a simple memorial service here at the funeral home. He already picked out his casket and he’ll be buried next to my mom.
After we finish with Mr. Boller, Zoe and I head back to my apartment. I need clothes for the funeral and enough for the next week, at least. All of my dad’s affairs should be in order, but I won’t know anything until the reading of the will. Uncle and I have an appointment with Dad’s attorney the morning after the memorial service.
As soon as we get to my apartment, I immediately go straight to my closet to grab some clothes that aren’t ten years old and two sizes too small. I slip on a pair of trusted True Religion jeans and I can finally breathe. Zoe starts pulling out my luggage. The Louis Vuitton hardback set was a graduation gift from Dad and I absolutely love them. We start throwing in jeans, t-shirts, yoga pants, more t-shirts, and finally a black Vera dress for the service, and a simple red sheath dress for the meeting with the attorney. Shoes are thrown in the luggage and my unmentionables get packed up last. I look around my bedroom to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything and give myself a facepalm. I almost forgot to grab Twinkie, my stuffed sloth. I can't sleep without my Twinkie.
“Al, are you about ready to go? I’m getting hungry and you, of course, have nothing to eat.”
I turn the lights out in my room and head back to the kitchen where I find Zoe with the entire top half of her body in my fridge. I yell, “Boo!”, and fall over in laughter when she jumps and bangs her head. “I’m so sorry,” I try to get out. “I saw you and just couldn’t help it.” I’m laughing so much, tears are streaming down my face.
Zoe just glares at me, grabs one of my suitcases and starts walking to the door. I’m pretty sure I hear her mumble ‘stupid asshole’ under her breath.
Three
Goodbye
The morning of the memorial service is very somber. Sofia is in the kitchen cooking breakfast while Zoe and I get ready. The service is supposed to begin at ten and if we don’t hurry up, we’re going to be late. My dad was anal about being on time. He was forever quoting the great Vince Lombardi. His favorite one was, “If you are five minutes early, you are already ten minutes late.” If I’m late to my dad’s funeral, he may just come back and beat my butt.
“Alice, Zoe, get your rears in gear. Breakfast is ready and you only have half an hour before you need to leave!” Sofia yells at us from downstairs.
I look in the mirror one last time. My black dress is straight, knee length, and has cap sleeves. I add a strand of pearls with my mom’s cross necklace, and pearls in my ears. My hair is pulled back into a bun at the nape of my neck, and I put on a pair of red heels. A little pop of color will hopefully lift my spirits. I touch the necklace, swallowing the tears back, and say a quiet prayer for the strength I need to get through the day.
Zoe walks in and I can’t help the chuckle that escapes my lips. She has her dreadlocks pulled back into a ponytail, her skirt is long, flowing, and an array of bright colors. She is wearing a purple shirt and brown Birkenstocks on her feet. Yes, my best friend is a hippie. Before I met her, I had no idea there were hippies in the South. I’m pretty sure I found the only one in existence.
“I’m hungry. You know how I can be when I get hungry. Let’s get a move on, Al.”
“I’m coming,” I mumble to her as I take a quick glance at myself one more time. I grab my purse that I stuffed with half a roll of toilet paper, I’m out of tissues, and follow her out of my bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen.
The smell of pancakes hits me in the face and a pool of saliva settles in my mouth. I didn’t have dinner last night and now, I could probably eat a stack of twenty pancakes. Zoe and I sit down at the bar and Sofia puts a plate in front of each of us. I cut into the pancakes and take a bite, then immediately regret it. I may be hungry, but my stomach is so full of nerves and stress that I can barely swallow the small bite. I push back the plate and drink the orange juice instead.
“What’s wrong dear?” Sofia asks, her eyes full of sympathy. “Do you not like your breakfast?”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry, Sofia. I just can’t stomach eating anything this morning.”
She comes around the counter and pulls me into a tight hug. She has always smelled like cinnamon and sugar to me. “I understand, Alice. I’ll fix you some soup later this afternoon. You need to try to eat something.”
“Thank you, Sofia.” I look over at Zoe and see she is finishing my plate. “You about ready?”
She pats her mouth with a cloth napkin and stands up from her chair. “Let’s get going. Thank you, Sofia, for breakfast.”
“I’ll see you girls there. I just need to grab my purse and I’ll be right behind you.”
“Do you want to ride with us?” I should have thought to ask her this already.
“Oh no, dear. I need to hurry back here, in case more people stop by to drop off food. The refrigerator and freezer are almost full already.”
Huh. I had no idea we’d already had visitors. I’ll have to ask her about it later. Thank you cards are next on my to-do list.
Zoe and I pull up at Boller Funeral Home and I’m taken back by the amount of vehicles I see. Thankfully, Mr. Boller told me there was a section in the back reserved for family. When we get inside, we’re greeted by a small, grey haired lady, who is passing out copies of the memorial cards. I made Zoe help me decide which picture of my dad to use on them. The one I chose is from a trip we took a few years ago. We flew to Madrid and rented a sailboat. He’s standing at the helm, his hair is blowing in the wind, and he has the biggest smile on his face. The carefree look is not something you would normally see on him, and for that reason, I decided on it. I want people to remember him not only as the ruthless businessman he was, but also as a loving, fun father.
The minister Dad chose is at the door leading into the room where the service will be held. He greets me with a small smile and we go over one last time what he will be saying and the order of the service. Since Dad already had everything picked out, all I needed to do was provide the picture and show up.
Zoe and I make our way to the front pew that has been reserved for us
. I notice my Uncle Richie and his wife seated on the second row. I don’t remember her name so I call her Six, since that’s the current wife he is on. I don’t smile, or even bat my eyes at him. I have no time to worry about that man today. After we take our seats, I finally take the time to look up to the front where Dad is. His casket is simple and understated. It’s oak with platinum railing. The handles are in the shape similar to a bottle of Jack Daniels. Seeing how that was his favorite drink, I’m guessing it isn’t a coincidence. The casket sits on a white stand with a spotlight illuminating it. Off to the side is a podium where the minister is standing. The floor surrounding the casket is covered in flowers and different green plants. There are seven different standing sprays, all in red, white, and blue. My dad was nothing if not a lover of his country. He was a true Patriot through and through.
The service starts with one of my dad’s favorite songs playing: Elvis Presley, “How Great Thou Art.” I almost roll my eyes at this choice. Dad was a diehard Elvis fan. He even has pictures of him hanging in the house. I remember him dragging me to Graceland twice a year, every year. Once on the anniversary of his death, and on his birthday. Elvis’ birthday, not Dad’s.
After Elvis is done, the minister stands and reads a few scriptures before he begins to tell a little about Dad and his life.
“Daniel Du-Kane was a hardworking entrepreneur. He loved his city and always gave back to his community. He was involved in several charities, and even donated his time to the local Meals on Wheels.” Zoe pinches the underside of my arm when I start to laugh. Meals on Wheels. The only reason my dad was ever near that was when he was out trying to collect money that was owed him. That was years ago, long before he had all the muscle we do now. “Daniel was a long time member of the Memphis Community Church, where he served as a Deacon and headed up several committees. He was the widow to the late Katherine Du-Kane, and the father of one daughter, Alice.”
Once the minister is finished, another song begins to play. This time I can’t help but chuckle to myself. It’s Marc Cohn’s “Walking In Memphis.” Could Dad be anymore cliche? The minister rises once the song is over and asks if there is anyone who would like to speak about Dad. I hold my breath. On one hand, I’m worried no one will want to say anything, on the other, I’m petrified someone will. Just as I’m about to make Zoe stand up and say something, my Uncle Richie decides to.
“My brother Daniel was a great man. He was the best big brother, a devoted husband, and loving father. The world is a little duller without him in it.”
Okay, that wasn’t what I was expecting at all. That was actually quite lovely. I am about to stand to read what I wrote when I hear a throat clearing. I look over my shoulder to see an older gentleman stand. “I worked for Mr. Du-Kane for nearly twenty years. He was a good boss, gave big bonuses, and grew the best weed in Tennessee.”
I slap my palm over my face and groan. I think Zoe is hyperventilating trying to contain her laughter. Her shoulders are shaking so hard the pew is bouncing.
“Ahem, okay then. I believe Alice has a few words to say now.” The minister sits down after introducing me.
I make my way to the podium, holding on to my mother’s necklace for strength. I spread out my notes, look over at the casket, then close my eyes and take a deep breath.
“Thank you for coming. I am humbled by how many people have come to pay their respects. I hope you all respected him as much as I do. I admire him for raising me to be the woman I am today. He told me to be kind, have a good work ethic, and to always keep my promises. He told me to see things through, never give up.” I close my eyes and take a moment to get my thoughts together. “My dad will be missed. I’m sure his friends will miss his corny jokes and his over the top laugh. I will miss my best friend, my inspiration, and the source of my convictions.”
I gather up my notes and sit back down. One last song comes on, and this one has me pulling out the toilet paper I shoved in my purse earlier. It’s Brad Paisley and Dolly Parton, “When I Get Where I’m Going.” By the time the song ends, I have become a slobbering mess. The minister says a quick prayer and I take my place by Dad’s casket, ready to accept the condolences of everyone who attended. I asked Zoe earlier to stand up here by me, but she told me it might be confusing. She thinks funerals are a great place to pick up available men, and she didn’t want anyone thinking we were together. I just rolled my eyes at her.
Thirty minutes later and I can finally see the end of the line. I have to blink my eyes to make sure I’m not hallucinating. North Michaelson is walking toward me. Why would he be at my dad’s memorial?
“Miss Du-Kane,” he reaches his hand out for me to shake. “My brothers and I are very sorry for your loss. Your father will definitely be missed.”
He lets go of my hand and the three men behind him all give me small smiles as they continue on. It takes me a moment to get over the shock of seeing him, of all people, here. Once the last person leaves, my body immediately sags. Zoe, bless her heart, shoves a can of Coke under my nose. “Drink this. You haven’t had anything in your system and you look like you could crash at any moment.”
I grab the can, pop the top, and take a long drink. I’m more of a coffee girl, but this is exactly what I need right now. I gather up my purse and we head out the door. Sofia should already be there to open the house and accept any visitors that want to stop by. I plan on sneaking in and heading straight to my old bedroom. I need my sweats and a nap.
Four
Meeting The Competition
“We need to get out of this house.” I look over at my best friend, wondering what she’s blabbering about now. She must notice my look of confusion because she continues on. “You’ve done nothing all day but mope around. I know it was hard losing your daddy, but you can’t sit in this big house all alone and do nothing. We need to get out, get your mind off of what’s going on with your uncle.”
My Uncle Richie. This morning we met with the attorney for the reading of Dad’s will. He left me the house, his cars, the vacation homes he kept in Miami and Aspen. I wasn’t surprised by that. What did surprise me, was the fact that he left me all of his 51% of Du-Kane, Incorporated. You could feel the tension in the room thicken as soon as he read this part. My uncle didn’t say anything during the reading, but afterwards he pulled me aside, patted me on the back and gave me his words of wisdom. I say that with the most sarcasm I can muster at the moment.
“Alice, there is no need for you to worry about running Du-Kane, Incorporated. You just keep on going to that fancy law school of yours and I can take care of everything. I’ll make sure you still get a paycheck so you can continue to buy all those shoes and whatever it is you like to waste your money on.”
I stood there, stunned into silence, as he walked away from me. After I counted to ten, I signed all the paperwork and left the attorney's office. I told Zoe everything after I got back home. To say she was pissed is an understatement.
“Oh, no he didn’t! You will show him, Alice. You can run that company just as good, no better, than your daddy did. You show that condescending, jerkface uncle of yours, that you will not be pushed around. This is your company now. Your daddy knew exactly what he was doing. If he didn’t think you could do it, he wouldn't have left his half to you in the first place.”
My best friend is a smart girl. Pushy, but smart. This leads us back to tonight. I haven’t been moping around all afternoon. I’ve been thinking. I go back and forth over being the newest owner of Du-Kane, Inc. Zoe is right, I can do it. I may not have grown up completely immersed in the business, but I do know some of it, and what I don’t know, I can definitely learn. My dad didn’t raise an idiot. He raised a strong, independent woman who fights for what is rightfully hers.
I’m snapped out of my thoughts by a pair of jeans being thrown in my face. I push them aside and look up at Zoe. She’s currently bent over, going through my drawers, her butt in the air.
“Zoe, I don’t think this is the best time to be
going out. I’m in mourning.”
She turns around and puts both hands on her hips. “I know you’re mourning, but you need to get out of here for a little bit before you go crazy. Hell, before you drive me crazy.” She walks over and sits on the bed beside me. “Alice, just give me a few hours, a little music and a few drinks. That’s all I’m asking. I have to go back to Knoxville in the morning and I don’t want to go leaving you like you are now.”
I never could say no to her. I stand up, and rip off my sweats. I put on the skinny jeans she tossed at me and I grab a black, silky tank top from my closet. I add some chunky silver bracelets, a pair of silver chandelier earrings, and of course, my mom’s cross necklace. Zoe hands me my favorite pair of red cowgirl boots and whistles at me once I’m completely dressed.
“Damn, I hate you right now.”
I just laugh at Zoe. It’s not like she doesn't look good herself. She has on her typical, long, flowing skirt, a tight tank top, and her own brown and turquoise boots to finish her look. She has her dreads pulled back in a ponytail with a bandana holding it in place.
“We look good, Zoe. You’re right, I do need to get out for a little bit.”
I call an Uber, because I know us, and after we get in, I tell the driver to drop us off at Beale Street. It has something for everyone. Rock, country, a mixture of both, you can find it here. It also has the best margaritas in Memphis. We stop at the first country bar we come to and decide to start our night here. The bar is dark, the music is loud, and the drinks are flowing. This is exactly what I need.
We find a small round table about halfway to the stage and Zoe leaves to grab us a few drinks. Since it’s a weeknight, there is no live band, but the jukebox is on and there is a small line of people waiting to play their favorite songs. Zoe returns with two very large margaritas, and a small tray of colorful jello shots.
