Somewhere in Vermont {part II}
Olivia paces behind her desk running likely scenarios for her upcoming meeting with his personal attorney she never knew existed. He added me to his will. He made me executor of his estate. He wrote an end-of-life letter for my eyes only. A strong feminine voice interrupts her musings. "Olivia Pope…your reputation precedes you."
She returns the handshake of the tall, elegant Afro-Latina standing before her. "As does yours Ms. Pearson."
"Please, call me Jessica," she smiles broadly.
Olivia gestures toward the chairs in front of her desk. "Please have a seat. I must admit I am curious."
She sits slanting her legs to the left and crosses her ankles. "Shortly after the inauguration President Grant directed me add a provision to the Grant Family Trust to guarantee an inheritance to any and all children of Olivia Carolyn Pope even if his name was not on the birth certificate." She shakes her head. "Further, the Grant Estate is required to provide you the same compensation of a legal spouse." Olivia rolls her eyes. Jessica reaches into her briefcase and hands the woman sitting across from her a trifold set of documents. "Here is the deed to your home in Vermont."
"There is a house in Vermont?"
She smiles softly. "I like to call it Grant Ranch east. He purchased way too many acres. Hired a firm to design the home to his specifications and had it built." Before she can continue Liv responds.
"There is an orchard and a greenhouse."
"Oh, he did take my advice and talk to you about the architectural plans."
Olivia shakes her head, "Not exactly."
"Wow, he did say you were the love of his life. I guess that kind of love makes you in sync. Do I need to recite the remaining features?"
"Please," she smiles softly. We belong to each other.
"There are a ton of bedrooms for children, a heated indoor pool and rocking chairs on the front porch. And lest I forget, an industrial stove top range for making jam."
Olivia burst into irrational laughter. Tears spill from her eyes and she holds her belly. Jessica curious eyes study the woman before her. This is not the formidable fixer all of Washington, DC feared. This is Fitz's Livvie. The woman he gushed about at every given opportunity. "Uh, can I get in on the joke?"
"I am sorry," Olivia attempts to pull herself together. "Fitz trust you so I will too. The media reports of a full recovery are accurate in relation to his physical well-being. However, his mental health is another matter. He believes that he and I are married and living in Vermont with four children. The marriage and children have always been a dreamed deferred but clearly the house is all too real."
Jessica's eyes soften. "What does that mean for him in the short and the long term?"
"For now, we are all playing along with his alternative reality but eventually we will have to integrate the truth when he is strong enough."
"I am surprised Mellie is not on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial shaving her head and flogging herself in true martyr fashion."
"You are not wrong about her; thus, I have a Fitz loyal team holding her hostage humanely…allegedly."
Jessica takes a deep breath. "Given the unknown possibilities I think it is appropriate to share his last request." Olivia nods along while the attorney retrieves a black folder from her briefcase. "Enclosed is an affidavit from the OBGYN treating the First Lady. The gestation of this pregnancy raises questions regarding the paternity of the unborn child. Blood and DNA tests are scheduled for the day the child is born."
"What?" Olivia whispers.
"I do not have any specifics to offer. His only statement on the matter was that he was calling her bluff…presidency be damned."
Unconsciously Olivia stands and begins pacing. "Does she suspect any of this?"
"I seriously doubt she is aware. She always thinks she is the smartest person in the room which is never true."
Liv reaches out to shake the informative woman's hand. "I do not know how to thank you."
"I tell you what. To show your appreciation just invite me to dinner at your sprawling love shack."
"Consider it handled."
"Madame Vice President I cannot emphasize enough the tenuous nature of your situation."
"You have made yourself abundantly clear. My time in the highest seat of power is limited and my continued presence as a part of the Grant Administration can be snatched from my grasp if I do anything you deemed outside the parameters of keeping the seat warm," Sally Langston rolls her eyes.
"Cyrus Beene continues to serve as the Chief of Staff to the President of the United States," Olivia's sentence is cut off.
"You mean I have a full-time nanny. Will he cut my food too?"
"No, but I am willing to cut your throat so stick to what you do best: bitter judgement and sanctimonious drivel."
"Enough! I do not have time for hair pulling and shin kicking. I am Olivia Pope…I destroy people, businesses and organizations with a swipe of my phone screen. If you continue this behavior, I will not hesitate to make sure you are next. Is everyone clear?" They both nod with tight frowns.
Mellie Grant holds tightly to the sheet of paper handed to her by the ultimate thorn in her side…Olivia Pope. She hisses through clenched teeth. "You are out of your skanky ass mind if you think I will go quietly into the cold, black night. I am owed and I will collect. No sane politician would waste this moment. America's baby and I are unstoppable. I will pick up the Grant mantle and launch a successful and profitable career that will take me all the way to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue."
"You could try but the Chernobyl level fall out if you attempt to do anything other than what I tell you to do will make the rest of your days worse than a lifetime in hell," Olivia snaps back.
"Every time I think you are smart you let me down. The press pool is downstairs. I can approach any microphone and blow your world apart. Do you really want to give up this little career you built off the back of the Grant campaign?"
Olivia moves from in front of the secluded office door in the secure wing of the hospital. "Your histrionics are amusing. America's baby is a fitting title since somewhere in this country there is a sperm donor with a story to sell. So, by all means…take your shot." Mellie studies Liv's face for any hint she is bluffing. Soon the hair on the back of her neck stands on end. She has the ultimate hand. "Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III is always smarter than we give him credit for. Out of respect for his masterful plan you are getting on a plane for North Carolina. I am releasing a statement informing the public to respect the Grant family privacy while the former president continues his remarkable recovery. After a reasonable amount of time, you will divorce and begin leading separate lives."
"Oh, I get it now. You want my spot and the only way to get it is while he is cuckoo for cocoa puffs." Her statement is met with a backhand slap that whips her head to the rights.
"You low down dirty tramp. You do not speak about the man I love in that manner every again. Do you hear me? If my gut senses you are harboring disrespectful thoughts; I will beat the brakes off your flat ass and rip every hair real and synthetic out of your head. Are we clear?"
Mellie holds the side of her face. Her cheek is warm, and her skin is red. "How did he," she begins to ask.
"How does a man get the life he wants with the woman he loves? By any means necessary."