At the Knoxville airport, I was met by a middle-age man holding a sign that read "Eleanor Wallace". "I'm Ellie Wallace," I informed him.

He seemed surprised. I guess in my red hoodie and blue jeans I didn't look like an heiress.

Obviously he couldn't drive me into Wallace City because it's car-free. He drove to the outer edge and I rolled my luggage onto a trolley that took me to my hotel.

"Welcome to the Foothills Inn," the front desk woman cheerfully greeted me. "Checking in?"

"Yes. The name is Wallace. Ellie Wallace."

The woman's eyes widened. "Oh! Welcome to the Inn, Ms Wallace. We're so sorry about the...