Frozen

Anyone could be forgiven for expecting the first week to be the hardest, the initial shock overriding sense and thought. It was a constant reminder of a new reality, as if waiting determined at the doorstep of one’s mind each morning upon waking. That’s why Edward preferred sleeping. He’d never lost a parent. But it wasn’t the case. The first week had been calm, peaceful almost as he; the eldest of three siblings had begun to gather all of his mother’s affairs in order, rifling through legal documents pertaining to her will, the deed to her estate and other various assets. It had been a numbing process that allowed facts and figures to soothe his mind and salve unwanted memories that threatened him when he was still. Olive’s Will and Testament served as an instructive manual reflecting nothing short of her predictable nature, as she had divided everything equally to Edward and his two sisters. He’d been grateful and the denominations had filled him with possibility. Olive had inherited her considerable wealth from her established upper-class family, the only child of a foreigner born into generational wealth of her own and a former Secretary of State of equal social standing. Sadly, she had lived a life shorter than expected, leaving Edward to sign documents he hadn’t anticipated seeing for another thirty years at least. Olive had been sixty-four.

Once everything was finalised, all three of her children would be millionaires under forty. His sisters had taken care of all of the funeral arrangements, which was helpful considering they both lived in Virginia, he in Las Vegas far to the west. His plane had been delayed twice due to blizzards, and two emergency landings had been made during a flight that had been originally planned for six hours and nineteen minutes. At the Blue Grass Airport in Lexington, the pilot had informed the passengers they would be waiting a minimum of three hours for the snowstorm to pass, which despite the creation of mild annoyance gave Edward the opportunity to scratch an itch he’d been fighting off from the wait at the last airport. No sooner had the plane landed, he’d exited the Blue Grass with fervour to enter the Red Mile, the only casino worth visiting in town. No tables, just slots; but it would do. After ignoring the warnings to stay indoors he’d braved the icy winds to flag a cab driver willing to take him there, for cash payment and a generous tip. He only had cash as his ATM cards weren’t currently working.

***

Edward had gambled away three grand, gained seven more and lost all seven again before nearly missing the flight to Richmond. He’d boarded a mixture of emotions, nervousness, fear and anger. He wondered about his father as the plane rocked against the sky semi-chaotically, which darkened his mood further. Olive had never spoken of the man who’d sired Edward and had gone to her grave with the same defiance and selfish withdrawal of knowledge. Who was he? Was Edward more like his old man more so than his mother? Was it this man he had inherited all his poor decisions and misgivings from? The girls were all Olive, in beauty and in grace, gliding easily into perfect lives with perfect husbands and perfect children. They knew what they were doing with money. Perhaps he never should have left Virginia. His mother knew he was an addict. She had known he had problems for years, yet despite this she had loved him fiercely and given him a third of everything she owned. It was the Estate that elicited the most excitement from Edward. His house back in Vegas had just been repossessed, along with his car, and the expansive estate on which his mother had lived was exactly what he needed to get ahead again. Olive’s death couldn’t have come at a better time so to speak, but Edward was confused by the sadness at the loss of her and the relief of severe financial ruin. Only in novels did those who were bankrupt become one of the one percent.

Olive’s home was more than just an estate; it was equestrian school of which she served as Chair of the Board, owning and managing over a hundred thoroughbred horses worth millions of dollars which had now been divided up between Edward and his sisters as well. He had left at a young age, and cared naught for horses save for betting on them in overcrowded sports bars. The trifectas he’d pegged over many seasons of racing were boast-worthy. Olive had died in a fall from one of the horses, and they served now as only a reminder of that. Selling the estate would mean never having to worry about anything ever again. Never having to be constantly thinking of his mother's death. Never having a wife divorce him because of money problems again. Perhaps if he chose to, he could even re-marry and have a child he could now support. A family of his own. At thirty-seven years of age, Edward was still in the beginning of his prime even if his back had begun to ache a little more each day, his stomach a little too round over his belt buckle which gave away the amount of alcohol he consumed each evening. But all that would change with money. The difficulty would come with his initial pitch to his siblings, and he spent the remainder of the flight formulating the right wording. He suspected his sisters wouldn’t be interested in selling the estate or the horses for that matter. Daphne, the eldest of the two girls would take charge of the riding school now and it would be difficult to persuade them to sell, particularly because they were both so attached, their blue ribbons and golden championship cups lining the halls in glass cabinets. They’d offer to bye him out of course, and his third would be extravagant, but then he’d leave them sitting on a gold mine which would inevitably double in value and only make them richer, and he poorer over time.

“Beverage Sir?” an attractive flight attendant asked sweetly as she stopped a generously filled trolley of alcohol beside him. Edward was in the window seat, the one closest to the row beside him empty. He wet his lips and instinctively went for his wallet, remembering he’d blown through the last of his cash.

“Scotch on the rocks,” he responded coolly, handing her one of his maxed-out visas. The hostess passed him a glass of ice and the bottle of scotch first before tapping the card against the eftpos machine. It declined with audible protest. She frowned in that pretend way service people do, assuring you in their trained disposition that they’ll try it again because for some mysterious reason it didn’t work. Edward indulged her in wasting both their time, as he knew it would decline again and afterwards rested on the excuse that he’d be unable to transfer money due to the storms and he’d fix up payment upon landing. She left satisfied and Edward sat wondering how he got here; the only son of an incredibly wealthy family struggling to pay for a glass of scotch on an economy flight. He would fix the airline up after his mother’s accounts were finalised and the money transferred.

***

The plane began its descent. Lost in self-loathing and melancholy, his single swallow of scotch did little to warm him as Edward stared out the plane window. They were passing over Lake Chesdin, it’s surface like glass. The oversized pond was completely frozen. Like his cards. Like his assets. Like him. As children, he and the girls would dare each other to jump off the end of the pier during the Summer and compete to see who could swim out the farthest. Edward had not seen a Summer here for sixteen years and the pond looked unhappy in its wintry abandon. He pictured his three nephews and two nieces playing there as he had once done, although the littlest niece was only a baby who he had not met yet. His youngest sister Felicity was pregnant again, and he knew that when he saw her, she would be heavy with child. She was keeping the baby’s gender a secret until she gave birth. Both of the girls were like this, and had been all their lives, just like Olive. Keeping secrets. Secrets about fathers. Secrets about brothers. Women secrets. He could picture what Olive would look like at the funeral. She’d be dressed in her old fashions; a velvet pantsuit in the rich aubergine she was so fond of. She despised skirts, and had always complained that they distracted both the horse and the rider. Olive had relished the freedom of movement in all aspects of her life. Her best jewels would be worn in the open casket; simple diamond studs fastened in twenty-four carat gold, the matching diamond bracelet, numerous rings set in gold with an array of precious stones and finally; her favourite piece- the large amethyst which would be worn around her neck. Heirloom pieces. Edward was tempted to take these things and sell them if his sisters refused to sell the estate but shook the thought from his mind. He could never steal from his mother.

The girls had organised a driver to receive him at the airport and take him to his prepared rooms on the estate while they busied themselves with caterers and flower arrangements and extended family and thankyou cards. His mother had been such a prominent figure in Virginian society that the funeral was more of a social affair than an actual period of grieving for Edwards family. Daphne had informed him the occasion would host numbers in the high hundreds, including former sporting champions, politicians, the Governor, and that there would also be media present. Olive would have accepted nothing less and would approve of her funeral should the turn out run accordingly. It occurred to Edward how much he truly missed his mother. She was the only one that had ever believed in him, even though she knew all his secrets alongside her own. His sisters still had no idea about his decade-long gambling addiction. Olive had even lied about the circumstances of Edward’s failed marriage for him. Perhaps it was time to come clean. His mother was a true gem. He leaned back in his seat, tears escaping him whether from the pressure of the plane or the pressure in his heart he could not discern. The plane landed, and finally after the long journey, he began to thaw.