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Regina
29.01.26
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I'm here. Mariana just arrived. Yellow tape all over the front door.
Regina had changed into something more appropriate for her children’s arrival. She’d reluctantly peeled Anthony’s college sweater over her head, ruffling the already messy bun that sat at the nape of her slender neck. His signature smell of amber and tobacco with a hint of leather clung to the sweater fabric, she inhaled deeply as it passed over her head. Clutching the sweater to her chest, Regina had stood quivering and naked before the Louis Vuitton suitcase she’d packed to bring to the Pool House. Rubbing the fabric between her thumb and forefinger, the image of her late husband at college-age proudly sporting this very sweater, barrelled its way into her mind. Every memory of him was fractured, cracking with every recollection. Thoughts of Anthony were now coupled with a sickening dread that had infected Regina’s entire form.
She’d tasked the household staff with making The Pool House a little more welcoming. Through all her grief, Regina couldn’t bare the idea of judgment at the state of Blackstone Manor. The disorientating lack of control Regina had been subjected to meant she channeled her energy into controlling anything within arms reach. The Pool House deserted, stale scent was disguised by a Jo Malone candle burning and a scented air purifier pumping out Regina’s preferred household scent. Dusted, hoovered and mopped, the Pool House looked a far cry better than before. At the very least, it was clean. The Swiss-style wooden features meant the place had a modern feel, contrasting to Regina’s antique/modern design in the Manor itself. Since Blackstone Manor had been sealed off, that aggressive yellow tape forbidding entry, Regina had begrudgingly set up camp in the Pool House. It was a far cry from her usual creature comforts and the unfamiliarity of it all set her inner equilibrium way off-centre. There were small moments, fleeting, when she forgot that her husband lay dead in a morgue somewhere a town or 2 over. Those few blissful moments gave her relief from the continual ache that gripped her slight frame. The grief consumed Regina the majority of the time, hanging over her head like a persistent rain cloud, she’d barely eaten since she’d clapped eyes on Anthony’s body and the woman in the mirror looked ghostly. Haunted, drawn, gaunt, grief did not suit Regina Blackstone. Her usually perfect features were etched with the evidence of heartbreak. Not even her designer makeup routine could detract from the obvious.
But the world doesn’t stop for anyone, right? Not even the Blackstones. So whilst Regina waited for her children to assemble at their manor, she’d busied herself with the technicalities of death. Losing herself in the details, she had mostly been sat on the obscenely big sofa in the deserted Pool House, Macbook propped on her lap. Some may have found Regina’s ability to swallow the bile of grief suspicious. To those on the outside, her determined focus on funeral planning and arranging meetings with the Blackstone lawyers was unusual at best. Surely the grief-stricken widowed wife should be immobile beneath duvets and comforters, wordless and beside herself with heartbreak? Regina didn’t have the luxury of embracing the agony that had become a permanent fixture in her chest. No, she refused to allow Anthony’s death to immobilise her. Instead, she used it as a motivator to get organised.
Once she’d notified immediate family, Regina’s first phone call was to Ryland Royson, the lead Blackstone lawyer. He was chilling and matter-of-fact with his condolences. Regina had urged him to get Anthony’s affairs in order, quickly. No doubt the children, who were on their way home, would want answers to how the technicalities would be handled. Anthony was painfully private with his financial affairs. Regina was certain there were infinite details she was deprived of. But Ryland and Anthony had an understanding. They were close and it was clear to anyone that, though the lawyer was certainly under Anthony’s thumb, they did have the semblance of a friendship beneath it all. Ryland had promised he’d have the probate organised in a couple days. Usually, an estate as large as the Blackstone’s would take at least a week or more. But as one of 4 executors of the will, Ryland would have his work cut out gathering all the Blackstone estate and assets. He promised Regina to assign the task to his best colleagues and to call her once he had everything aligned. As Regina sat cross-legged on the sofa in the Pool House, Macbook open on her lap with her fifth glass of brandy in hand, her phone chimed to life. It was Ryland, again. She narrowed her eyes at his name brandished across the screen. As she reached to answer, voices could be heard approaching the Pool House. Regina’s eyes flicked to the door and her ears strained to listen. Edward’s low tones filtered through the Pool House walls and a twinge of dread squeezed at Regina’s heart. Other than the Blackstone Manor staff, she hadn’t had to face anyone since Anthony’s untimely passing. She let out a shaky sigh as her body physically braced itself for her children’s arrival. Her finger punched the green button and she lifted the phone quickly to her ear.
“Ryland, I hope this is good news,” Regina said by way of greeting, her tone clipped.
The family lawyer jumped straight into business, skipping pleasantries. He laid out the timeline, explaining that due to the sheer volume of estate assets, he wouldn’t be ready to present the will for at least another day. Elusive in his explanation, Ryland spared gory details, reassuring Regina he was working as quickly as he could.
“Anthony was clever with his fortune, as you know,” Ryland said carefully. “He made some amendments to the will just a few months ago and that’s what is complicating matters slightly…”
A lump instantly formed in Regina’s throat. She pressed the phone deeper into her ear, hoping she’d misheard. Lips pursed, she shakily tucked a stray grey curl behind her ear and swallowed. Her throat, suddenly feeling like sandpaper, struggled to swallow. Her adam’s apple bobbed with the efforts.
“Amendments? What amendments, Ryland? Anthony hasn’t mentioned his will since he jokingly threatened to write the children out of it when they weren’t returning his calls…” Her late husbands name felt fat in her mouth, her lips fumbled around the syllables and her heart quickened. “There shouldn’t have been any amendments to the will, not without my knowing! You should’ve run that past m-“
The Pool House door swung open, clattering against the wall to announce the arrival of her beloved children. Regina glanced up at them all, taking in their all-black attire and strained expressions. A weak, thin smile of acknowledgement spread across her face as she greeted them. Edward, Mariana and Bailey were huddled together in the entryway, all of them watching her with careful eyes. Regina wondered, for a split second, what they were seeing. This splinter-thin woman in a matching Versace silk lounge set, dishevelled hair and dull skin was a far cry from the woman they’d come to recognise as their mother. She adjusted her posture, straightening her spine and lifting her chin in defiance of her weakened state. She gestured to the phone pressed into the side of her face, cheekbones jutting out from her already angular face.
“Ryland, I’ve got to go. The children just arrived. Have the damn thing ready for a reading at the Manor tomorrow. Unless you’d rather your already overworked team have yet another will added to their workload.”
Jabbing the red button and tossing her phone aside, Regina turned her attention fully to the three children that stood before her. She took in Edward’s designer suit, sunglasses and trainers. Mariana’s deep V-line silk dress and Bailey’s ripped jeans.
“Well at least one of us didn’t come dressed for a funeral - Your father won’t be buried for another week at least,” Regina sighed and shook her head weakly. “Would it have killed you to venture outside your monochromatic wardrobes? You’ve come dressed as undertakers.”
She sniffed, her analytic gaze lingering on Bailey’s dark circles that framed her inherited father’s leafy green eyes.
“Mariana, fix us all a drink will you? Take the good bourbon from the drinks cabinet,” Regina’s slight hand flicked in the direction of the Pool House bar. She shifted in her seat, nestling into the sofa cushions, Macbook wobbling in her lap.
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