Throughout Annie fandom, people have wondered how Grace Farrell and Oliver Warbucks of the 1982 movie transitioned from the formal, business relationship they shared through most of the movie to the easy and loving affection portrayed in the finale "I Don't Need Anything But You." Although it appeared Grace and Oliver's relationship was becoming more intimate as the storyline progressed, the kiss in that finale seemed to come out of nowhere. I've read that nearly an hour of footage was cut in order to get the movie to production length, and a good amount of that hour came from the end of the film. I can only assume one of the scenes that was cut included a wonderful and very romantic conversation between Grace and Oliver during which they professed their love in an incredibly tender moment backed with swelling, lyrical music. Oh, how I would love to see that scene! Unfortunately, I fear it has been lost to the vagaries of time and poor records management, if it even existed at all. Therefore all we fans have is our imaginations fueled by that heart stopping millisecond when Warbucks leans in and kisses Grace in front of God and country. I'm sure the production team figured that the couple's following light kisses would lead the audience to assume that they had come to some mutual understanding, marriage was in their future, and the scene detailing this development could be left out all together.
How utterly disappointing! Obviously the powers that be at Rastar/Columbia didn't have a romantic bone in their bodies! So, until I find Carol Sobieski's orginal script, I'm left to my own devices to explain how Grace and Oliver went from point A to point B. Here's just one version I came up with.
Disclaimer: All characters and situations belong to Columbia Pictures and/or Rastar Productions. I don't own any character in this story and intend no copyright infringement. However the words are my own. This story may not be reprinted (on paper or electronically) or sold without my permission.
Once again I thank Linda Bindner for her editing prowess. This time I actually did take her suggestions!
I dedicate this story to the 1982 production team at Rastar Films and Columbia Pictures. If they hadn't had their Warbuckian eye on the bottom line, I never would have had a reason to write this story in the first place!
This story takes place the night of Annie's rescue from the bridge.
WORTH THE RISK
By Megie
July gazed around the sumptuous bedroom and uttered an appreciative sigh.
"Miss Farrell, can I come here to sleep every night?"
"Me too! Can I?"
Grace Farrell looked askance at the two orphans, July and Tessie, and wondered how to answer that loaded question. Before she could come up with something, Duffy chimed in with, "We promise not to make any noise."
Although perhaps having truly altruistic intentions, Grace didn't think the orphans really had it in them to be quiet by any sense of the word. To say that the house had been turned on its ear with their arrival was putting it mildly.
For the most part, Annie's orphan friends had taken the events of the evening in stride, but once she and Oliver returned home with Annie, who excitedly relayed her adventure and breath-taking rescue to her friends, everyone except little Molly had kept up a running commentary, peppering them with questions until she didn't understand how they had enough energy to keep it up, especially given their sprint uptown!
The entire affair made Oliver fit to be tied!
Thankfully the staff had taken it upon themselves to bathe and outfit the girls so they could spend the night. Considering they'd brought the warning of Annie's kidnapping, eventually enabling her rescue, Oliver felt the least he could do was give them a meal and a good night's sleep before sending them back to the orphanage. Besides, with Miss Hannigan temporarily behind bars, whatever poor soul the Board of Orphans had found to replace her tonight would likely be very grateful to have six less charges to corral.
That didn't make it any easier to address July's question, however. Although aware that Oliver's answer would be a resounding negative, Grace didn't know how to break that to the hopeful girls, so she passed the buck. "That's a question to ask Mr. Warbucks, dear." Just don't tell Oliver I told you to, she thought silently with a smile. "Now, I think it's time to get some sleep."
The girls slid down, each in their own bed, snuggling under the voluminous blankets protecting them from the cool breeze coming in the open windows. Grace pulled the blankets up even closer to their chins, then leaned over to kiss each orphan on the forehead. "Sleep well, girls. I'll see you in the morning." With a final appraisal, she turned down the light and exited the room.
She'd already tucked in Kate and Pepper in the adjoining room, and moved down the hall for one last peek into Annie's room to make sure she and Molly were still asleep.
This is ridiculous! she thought as she silently slid Annie's door aside, allowing the light from the hall to spill into the room. This would be the third time she had checked on the little red head since Oliver had put her to bed, but she just couldn't seem to satisfy her maternal need to make sure she was safe. Grace was quite certain she would be fighting visions of Annie hanging from that bridge for the rest of the night, and hoped the visual image of her sleeping peacefully next to her friend and Sandy would assuage the clinging fear.
Tiptoeing into the room, she quietly approached the bed as Sandy half rose and woofed a greeting. Grace placed her hand on his head and softly shushed the dog. "I'm just checking on her again," she whispered. "You probably wish everyone would just leave you alone, don't you?" She gave him another pat. "I'll only be a minute. Go back to sleep." Sandy seemed to accept that explanation, for he tiredly laid back down on the soft mattress and closed his eyes.
Grace surveyed the girls, both sound asleep; Molly sucking her thumb and Annie with her arms splayed across the pillow. Annie was snoring gently, causing an affectionate smile to radiate across Grace's lips. The former orphan was so dear to her, she couldn't bear to think about what had nearly happened just a few short hours ago. She gave an involuntary shudder at the mere thought, and her hand reached out of its own accord to lightly caress the wild curls. "I love you, Annie. Sleep well." Following a last kiss to Annie and Molly, Grace retreated to the hallway as silently as she'd come, tiredly sagging against the closed door.
What a day! She was exhausted, and part of her wanted nothing more than to climb into bed herself. But a larger part had other ideas, and her thoughts strayed to the topic she'd been holding at bay since yesterday morning in the garden. She'd seen Oliver head toward the office after he'd told Annie good night, and she felt a strong need to make sure he was alright after the trauma of the evening. At least that's what she was telling herself. What she really wanted was to simply be with him, to talk to him, to touch him, to…. Heat suffused her cheeks. Nervously Grace cleared her throat and wiped her suddenly sweaty palms on her skirt.
What was she thinking?!
She gave a soft exhalation. You're thinking that maybe, finally, you can tell him how you feel. Or rather you're thinking you can finally SHOW him how you feel! That thought brought another blush to her already warm cheeks, and she cleared her throat again, but the thought refused to give up its hold on her imagination so that her heart actually started beating faster to the perceived actions that were racing across her mind.
Grace shook her head and strove to control her stampeding emotions. She was being absurd. She had no idea how Oliver felt about her personally, and knew she was taking the few smiles and hand squeezes he'd given her the past two days and letting her imagination run wild. She needed to sit down and puzzle out logically the suddenly unfamiliar enigma that was Oliver Warbucks.
Sinking onto a nearby padded bench, she rested her head against the wall, pondering Oliver and what exactly she wanted, with him and from him.
For as long as she'd known him, he'd always been aloof, almost to the point of being untouchable. His professional front was intimidating, to say the least, but instead of frightening her, she was actually intrigued, not by the man she did see, but by the man she didn't. Who was Oliver Warbucks when he wasn't bullying his way through the business world? What did he want out of life? Surely he couldn't be satisfied just with amassing more wealth; he already had more money than the Rockefellers and the Carnegys put together. There were times, late at night when his energy started to wane, she would catch him staring across the room, engulfed in his own thoughts, sadness etched around his eyes. She'd been struck by the thought that he was actually lonely, and realized with a start that if he had a personal relationship with anyone beyond his sister's family, she didn't know about it. To be sure, he was so besieged with work that he barely took the time to properly eat and sleep, let alone cultivate a meaningful relationship with another person. But no one could survive a life bereft of emotional comfort, of a true connection with someone.
Thankfully he'd found that connection with Annie, and despite his pronouncement of loving only money, power and capitalism, Oliver appeared to be devoted to the girl and taking his new role of father very much to heart.
The question that needed answered at this point was did Oliver have room in his heart for her as well as Annie? That question brought her full circle back to her original problem; what did she want from him?
Without reservation she knew she wanted him, completely, and she had almost since she first met him. She wanted to be his friend, his confidant, his partner, the only person who had the right to do what her mind was insisting with startling clarity. She wanted to be his wife.
However, despite the fact that he had seemingly turned a complete circle from his standings when he agreed to adopt Annie, in his case having a daughter and having a wife were two very different propositions. Annie he could hand over to others to care for when work intruded, as it undoubtedly would. A wife, on the other hand, would be far more intimate, far more demanding of his time and attentions, and much riskier emotionally. She didn't know if he would be willing to make that sacrifice, even if he did harbor romantic intentions towards her.
She sighed in frustration. The only way to resolve this issue was to simply ask him. Oh, simple, just ask him! she thought sarcastically. Just walk right up and say, "Good evening, Oliver. Now that you have Annie settled, how about getting married?" Simple! She dropped her face into her hands. Grace Farrell, you're an idiot!
The thought of exposing her feelings to him so openly made her lightheaded with fear, but she'd been silently loving him from a distance for far too long. If she wanted their relationship to change, she was going to have to swallow that fear and take a chance.
Grace sat up with a deep breath as nerves made her insides quake. The worst he can do is turn you down. She wilted at the thought, her head bowed, knowing if that happened she'd never be able to continue a professional relationship with him. Tears sprang to her eyes as her fear made a strong argument to stay silent. Confessing her love would be an enormous gamble; she had everything to gain, but also everything to lose. And there was Annie to consider. She didn't want to lose the little girl any more than she wanted to lose Oliver. But what if she didn't say anything and in the future Oliver chose to marry someone else?
Her head snapped up and her eyes grew wide. Would he do that, marry someone else? What if he suddenly decided Annie needed a mother? Familiar with his methods, she knew he could very easily go out for a business meeting and come home with a fiancée! There was no shortage of women who would eagerly accept a proposal from Oliver Warbucks, one or two he might even be serious about. After all, he was one of the world's top ten bachelors, his enormous wealth helping to make him very attractive to anyone he turned an eye to. If that happened, it would be too late for her to say anything of her feelings in a manner that would be believable. Her heart started beating erratically against her ribcage as the scenario played out in her mind.
Now she was lightheaded with panic, and she gripped the edge of the bench to keep herself steady. Calm down! she ordered fiercely. Nothing's happened and it isn't going to tonight. However, her panic dictated that her fear of losing him through another woman was far stronger than her fear of losing him by way of rejection, and the possible payoff of confession was worth the risk. Just go talk to him!
Before she lost what little nerve she had, Grace stood and briskly made her way to the office.
Oliver Warbucks braced himself against the balcony railing with both hands, emitting a sigh that seemed to come from the bottom of his soul. He stared into the blackness of the gardens beyond the house and soaked up the quiet of the night. Compared to the frantic activity earlier in the evening, the silence was so strong he almost smiled.
Then a picture of Annie hanging from the lip of that bridge streaked across his mind, shattering the peace he felt, and he shook his head to rid himself of the horrifying image. It persisted, however, and he once again heard her cries for help echoing around his head as clearly as he had during the real experience.
She's fine! he told himself sharply, knowing full well that at this moment Annie was snuggled into her bed upstairs, Sandy and the little girl, Molly, stretched out next to her, all sound asleep. He'd checked on her personally before retiring to his office, wanting to assure himself that the nightmare brought on by the "Mudges" was over and Annie was once again under his protective care. Seeing her deep, even breathing of sleep helped put his mind at ease, but it left him with an uncharacteristic need to work through the events of the evening and their subsequent emotional fall-out.
He usually didn't allow himself to feel much in the way of emotion, instead preferring to push ahead, using constant motion to squelch any possible distress a situation might cause. This practice had enabled him to pursue his great fortune with few personal risks or consequences. Lately, however, his mind seemed to have little input on what his heart insisted he deal with, and he'd experienced more emotional highs and lows in the past few days than he had his entire adult life. He couldn't decide if this was a good thing or not.
It had all begun with the seemingly innocent arrival of an orphan into his home for a public relations show, and nothing had been the same since. From that point his well-ordered life had careened wildly out of control, and before he knew it he'd fallen hopelessly in love with a little girl who didn't have a penny to her name and no one to recommend her but a dog! What was he thinking?!
Warbucks marveled at the incongruity the past nine days had brought, and reflected if anyone had told him what would happen upon Annie's appearance, he would have thought them absurd. Imagine, the hard-hearted, profit-driven Oliver Warbucks smitten with a ten year old orphan! Why, no one would believe it!
And later, following the breathless rescue and the reporters and the police interviews, after everyone had gone and those in the house settled down, when Annie looked hopefully into his face, her bottom lip trembling, and asked him if he still wanted her to be his little girl, his heart melted. From that moment he belonged to Annie as surely as any legal document claimed she belonged to him. He'd pulled her into his arms then, and affirmed he'd make it permanent the very next day. Looking over Annie's head, his gaze landed squarely on Grace, and another pang of…something…shot through his heart while his stomach did a disquieting flip. Her smile so beguiled him, there was nothing to do but pull her into the embrace as well.
The thought of Grace brought another uncomfortable lurch of his heart, and his thoughts were pulled away from his soon-to-be daughter to his…. To his what? What was Grace? He had to admit, with no small amount of nerves, that he no longer knew. Without his planning or permission, their relationship had shifted, and now he didn't know who she was to him. His mind whirled as it churned out words like secretary, confidant, the only person he'd ever completely given his trust to. That thought amazed him even as he realized it was true. When had that happened? The better question was why had it happened? He had never been inclined to trust anyone outside of his immediate family. Even some people he considered close friends didn't garner his full confidence. And yet he'd never hesitated to disclose closely guarded truths to her, even early in their professional association when he would have been circumspect with anyone else.
Thinking back over the time Grace Farrell had worked for him, he couldn't get the word different out of his mind. She was simply different from his other employees; different from most people he knew actually. Trying to put his finger on the exact reason why she was different, he examined her qualities and came up with a slew of words, none of which adequately explained what he was feeling. Grace was…was…well, she was…intelligent, dependable, hard-working, honest, thoughtful, loyal….
Oliver grimaced; she sounded like a beloved pet! Was that the best he could do? He glanced around the wide balcony and his mind harkened back to a night several years ago, shortly after Grace had come to work for him, when he'd stood on this balcony, also troubled by recent events.
The ticker had finally stopped chattering out tape shortly before 8:00, long after the Exchange usually closed its doors. He slid the remaining tape through his fingers, reading rapidly, his dread mounting along with the pile of tape discarded on the floor. The market's down turn was so all-encompassing he could barely grasp its effect. Despite the machine's silence, the trading had been so explosive all day Oliver felt sure the full extent wouldn't unfold for weeks. He knew one thing for certain; in the past two days he'd lost a fortune. October 28 had proven to be a day in hell, but the 29th would forever remain black in his memory. He could only hope the 30th didn't bring more of the same.
"Fools! Amateur, ignorant fools!" he stormed as he threw the last of the tape to the floor. "All of them, running like cattle to the slaughter, not having the sense to think for themselves!" The mob paranoia of the bungling unskilled investors had run rampant through the financial world the past 48 hours until Oliver could hear the metaphorical crash on Wall Street pound through his ears. It seemed every Tom, Dick and Harry had sold their stocks today, without a single thought to the consequences should everyone choose to sell at the same time. All they would have had to do was sit tight and not panic until the supposed crisis literally disappeared. But no! Out of stark fear, they stormed the market and the banks like an avalanche so strong that no reason could divert them.
Scowling, Oliver picked up the tape again and glanced at the final notations. The overly inflated U. S. Steel shares he and Richard Whitney had bought last Thursday in an attempt to stem the chaos were now almost worthless. Although the tactic worked in 1907, they hadn't come close to convincing the panicked hordes the market was stable and their money safe. Even the Rockefellers' bold buying today hadn't made a bit of impact. He sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead. A headache was forming behind his eyes that promised to erupt into magnificent proportions if he didn't calm down.
Once again dropping the tape to the floor, he made his way across the deserted office to the French doors. Flinging them open, he took a deep breath of the bracing autumn air and let it out slowly, trying to untie the knots in his shoulders caused by hours hunched over the ticker tape and the phone. He took another breath and entered the balcony proper. Leaning against the railing, he soaked in the calmness of the gardens and lawns, the vastness of his estate buffering him from the bedlam that he knew was taking place beyond the outer wall. Even now he could hear the faint wail of an emergency siren, soon followed by another, both heading downtown. They'd been going off all day as police attempted to keep the crowds on Wall Street and at the banks under control. Hopefully the darkness of night would encourage everyone to go home. Fully versed in human nature, however, Oliver knew the night would be a long one, for him as well as for the police.
This was truly the worst day of his career. Not since signing on to that ship all those years ago as a frightened, angry 12 year old had he been so unnerved. He'd worked so hard since then, his almost desperate drive to shore up security and safety with huge amounts of money changing him into someone he could hardly recognize any longer; someone he wasn't particularly proud of. And for what? he snarled to himself. To lose it all in a massive public frenzy of panic. His headache was getting worse.
"Mr. Warbucks?"
Oliver whipped around, startled out of his dire thoughts to see his secretary standing in the doorway. "Miss Farrell! I thought you'd already turned in."
"I'm getting ready to," she answered tiredly, stepping onto the balcony. " After today, I feel like I could sleep for a week, but I thought I'd check to see if you need anything first."
Warbucks gave her a grim smile. "Unless you have the solution to fix the fiasco of the past two days, the answer is no."
She hesitantly moved to stand next to him, searching his face. "Is it really as bad as they're saying?"
"Whatever you've heard, I guarantee it's far worse," he growled, gripping the balcony rail until his knuckles turned white.
"I take it the Rockefellers' plan to stabilize the market today didn't work then?"
"No, it did not." He could feel the stone biting into his fingers, and he consciously loosened his grip. "I won't know the full extent of the damage until the next few days play out, but I have a pretty sound estimate."
"And?"
Despite his best efforts, his knuckles were turning white again. "I've lost 1/3 of my domestic investments since yesterday morning. That amounts to approximately $100 million, and I expect that number to increase."
Her eyes grew large in shock. "$100 million?!" she gasped.
"If Hoover doesn't veto that idiotic tariff Smoot and Hawley have proposed, as I expect he won't, I doubt the situation will improve for a long time, if at all."
"Good lord!" She cast her eyes down as her thoughts reverted inward. Suddenly her gaze shifted back to him, worry creasing her forehead. "Are you going to be alright?" she blurted inelegantly.
A sudden, inexplicable anger gripped him at her question. The vultures are already circling, squawking for their share, he thought sourly, keenly feeling the pressure of the multitudes who relied on him for support. His shoulders tightened at the thought. "Don't worry, Miss Farrell," he snapped. "There will be plenty left to pay your salary."
Miss Farrell reeled back as if struck, hurt flooding her features. That hurt quickly ceded to anger, and her eyes narrowed. "I wasn't concerned on my behalf, sir, but on yours," she bit off. "As you say, there's nothing I can do, so I'll say good night." With that she turned and rapidly walked across the expansive balcony toward the door.
Guilt seized him at his harsh comment and the pain it had obviously caused. "Miss Farrell, wait," Oliver beseeched. She paused at the doorway but didn't turn around. He felt his heart give an unfamiliar squeeze, and wondered about it even as he said, "That was a very insensitive and callous assumption. It's been a difficult day. I…appreciate… your concern." He felt his face uncharacteristically flush as he stumbled through the apology, and was glad that the light from the office didn't extend to the railing.
She turned back to him, and didn't seem to notice the flush or his awkwardness as she curtly nodded her acceptance.
"To answer your question," he continued, "I imagine I'll have to do some deep retrenching in several areas, but if today's downward spiral doesn't continue, the diversity of the company should help it survive if this turns out to be a long-term crisis. I assure you that whatever happens, I'll fight to keep it going until the bitter end."
She smiled at that, and his heart suddenly felt lighter. "I never doubted that, Mr. Warbucks."
Unexpectedly, her faith sent a surge of confidence flooding through him, and some of the tension began to slip away.
"Let's hope tomorrow is a better day, then," she continued, still smiling gently.
"Indeed."
"I'll see you in the morning, sir."
"Good night, Miss Farrell." He watched her go, realizing his new secretary had surprised him as few others had. She had thought about him before herself.
The memory brought a smile to his face. That was a dark day, but those few words from Grace had given him strength when he thought all was lost, and made his burden manageable. He never told her how she'd affected him that night, but had never forgotten it, and finally began to understand the why of it all. Her natural empathy touched a cord deep within him in ways he had never acknowledged needed to be touched. And it hadn't stopped there. She continued to uplift him at the most unexpected times, her quiet support encouraging him through many trials and crises over their professional association. She'd helped him in more ways than he'd ever given her credit for or imagined.
And now she was responsible for the biggest life changing event he would likely ever experience. If not for Grace, Annie wouldn't even be here, let alone in the very personal role as his daughter. When he issued the order for her to bring home an orphan, he'd meant for her to get a boy, something she well knew, or should have. He couldn't think of a time when she'd gone against his wishes. Why she consciously chose to disobey him by picking out a girl, and one with a dog to boot, was something he couldn't fathom. At this point he didn't care. He was just happy that she had and willing to leave it at that.
You're avoiding the real issue, he told himself sharply, attempting to get his wandering thoughts under control. What he really needed to address were his feelings towards Grace, and what they meant. The why and what weren't important.
No, he corrected in sudden revelation, you're not avoiding the issue, you're avoiding the truth. He knew perfectly well that he was thoroughly in love with Grace Farrell; the only issue being was he going to act on that love?
His heart skipped a beat, then another, and the idea left him with an unfamiliar sense of exposure and raw uncertainty. He wanted nothing more than to walk up to her, take her in his arms and never let go, but what if she didn't return his feelings? What if…. Good lord, what if she cares for someone else? That thought knifed through him and made his blood run cold. A woman as beautiful and intelligent as Grace should have legions of followers. Not only hadn't he comprehended until tonight that he had long been one of them, but he now recognized that Annie was right; sliced bread notwithstanding, he'd never paid close enough attention to know if Grace had someone special in her life or not.
Before he could recover from this shocking notion, he heard a soft, "Hi," behind him.
He jumped and whirled around, his sudden movement causing Grace to leap slightly backwards herself.
"Sorry!" they both said at the same time, each reaching out to steady the other. They chuckled at the ludicrousness of the situation.
"I didn't mean to startle you," Grace apologized, still clutching his forearm.
"No, it was my fault. I suppose I'm still a little jumpy from this evening," he evaded.
Thinking him earnest, she nodded her agreement. "I've been trying to stop shaking since we got home. I keep checking on Annie, hoping that seeing she's safe will encourage me to actually believe it."
Both realized at the same time that they still had hold of each other. Grace's cheeks flamed a dull red, and Oliver roughly cleared his throat as they both stepped back, dropping their hands awkwardly to their sides.
Trying to hide his discomfort, Oliver asked, "Is she still asleep?"
Concentrating on the tingling she felt in her arm where Oliver's hand had rested, Grace almost missed his question. "Annie? Oh, yes. She's curled up with Sandy and Molly, completely unaffected by what happened. It's a wonder that she can sleep so peacefully when I doubt I'll sleep all night!"
"Yes," Oliver ruminated. "I really hadn't considered it before, but I suppose this is what it means to be a parent."
"You mean constantly being scared out of your wits?"
Oliver chuckled. "Well, let's hope it's not always like tonight!"
"Knowing Annie and her penchant for experiencing life with gusto, I think you'd better prepare yourself for some exciting adventures."
Oliver's eyebrows rose in mock reproach. "I recollect your promise to take care of her."
"Oh, no," Grace shook her head. "I said I'd look after her. That's different from being her legal parent."
"Do you mean I'll have the final say in every difficulty she gets into?"
She chuckled. "Actually, I think it's going to take the entire household to keep that girl out of trouble."
Returning her smile, he agreed. Then he eyed her curiously, and before he thought better of it, asked, "Do you want children?"
Grace looked at him, stunned. That was a very… personal question, especially for him. "Uh," she stuttered, slightly flustered, "well, yes. I always assumed I'd have children someday. I certainly want to have children, to have a family of my own," she rushed on. "I thought I'd have them by now, but…," her explanation ground to a halt and she quickly looked away.
When it became obvious she wasn't going to continue, he softly encouraged, "But?"
"Things just haven't worked out," she hedged.
"Why?"
He never did broach a subject delicately. Grace gave a wistful smile. It was such a simple question and the answer so difficult. "You need to be married to have children, or at least I want to be," she shrugged, silently referring to his adoption of Annie.
"I'm surprised you aren't," Oliver stated bluntly.
Again he shocked her. "What do you mean?"
He felt his face grow warm, realizing too late what he'd said. He wanted to answer that he couldn't imagine any man not wanting to marry her. Instead he stammered, "I'm…just surprised…that you've…chosen not to. And I assume it was a choice," he finished hurriedly. How could it have been otherwise?
"Yes, in a manner of speaking."
"In a manner of speaking? Does that mean you've been married before?" he asked, astonished. This thought had never occurred to him.
"No!" she corrected, wide-eyed. "No, I've never married." Her gaze shifted out to the darkened trees. "But I was engaged once, a long time ago," she said quietly.
He regarded her silently for several seconds, then gently prodded, "What happened?"
At his question, Grace's thoughts careened back to a time of her life that was still painful to think about.
Grace rushed into the reception hall, conscious that she was very late. Despite the fact that she had the good excuse of being held up by her work, she doubted that Edward would take that into account in a sympathetic way. The gathering tonight was a celebration of the soon-to-be marriage of her fiancé's best friend, Matthew, and his girlfriend Claire. Edward was Matthew's best man, and as he approached most things, he was taking his "best man" duties very seriously. Edward rather stood on ceremony, and she knew her lateness would be giving him palpitations.
As expected, she found Edward waiting impatiently for her in the foyer, his expression a mixture of relief and irritation.
"There you are! Why are you so late?" he asked as he kissed her on the cheek.
"I'm sorry," Grace apologized. "Just as I was about to step out the door, Judge Panken asked me to find a certain case he needed for court tomorrow. It had been misfiled, and it took longer to locate than it should have."
"That would explain why you're still dressed that way," he said, taking in her work attire a bit disapprovingly . "Couldn't you have let someone else help this time? I don't understand why you always have to be the one to do everything."
"Edward, I was the only one still there. I couldn't exactly tell the judge no. And besides, I know that office better than any of the other clerks, something the judge acknowledges." Even if you don't, she thought to herself.
"Alright, I forgive your being late." He smiled down at her, crooking her arm around his, "And you won't have to deal with missing files much longer. Let's go in, they're holding dinner for us."
Edward began to lead her further into the hall, but she tugged him to a stop. "Wait. What do you mean, I won't have to deal with missing files much longer?"
"Once we're married, of course, which, by my calculation, is only four short weeks away. I can't wait!" He leaned down and pecked her on the lips. "Now come on, I'm starved!"
Grace let him lead her a few steps, then stopped again. "I don't understand. What does being married have to do with my job?"
Edward sighed in exasperation. "You won't work after we get married," he said, as if explaining the obvious. "Now Grace, please, let's go in." He grabbed her hand, but she pulled it away.
"I won't work?" she asked, still confused. "Why not?"
"Because we'll be married. Of course you won't work after we're married."
She gaped at him, astonished. "But Edward, I want to work. I like my job and I'm good at it. I'm learning a lot. I have no intention of resigning simply because I'm married."
Edward kept his voice even as he said, "Sweetheart, I appreciate that you want to work to save as much money as possible before the wedding, but I've always planned that my wife would keep our house and raise our children, just like my mother and my sisters." He looked at her as if he'd never seen her before. "What more could you want than that? An outside job would be unnecessary; I will take care of you. Besides, you'll be far too busy with the house and children. Married women don't work, Grace, you know that. It just isn't done."
Unlike her fiancé, Grace's eyes snapped as her temper took hold. "What more could I want?! Edward, I did not put myself through SIX YEARS of college to attain a business degree to give it all up after marriage simply because 'it just isn't done!' I want to be a business woman and your partner, not a housekeeper. This is my career we're talking about!"
"Grace," he said patiently, as though to a child, "working as a clerk for the municipal court isn't a career. And do we have to talk about this now? Tonight is important and I'm sure they're wondering what's happened to us."
"So am I," she concluded in anguish. Was he serious? Her throat grew tight and her heart began thudding hard in her chest. She felt like she was being strangled. "Do my wishes mean so little?"
Edward had heard all he cared to. In a tone of voice that brooked no argument, he said, "Let me be perfectly clear, Grace. No wife of mine will work outside my home."
Grace stared, dumbfounded. "If you truly mean that, then I can't be your wife."
"And that was that," Grace finished, looking at Oliver for the first time since she began relating the story. "I broke the engagement and haven't seen him since." She lowered her eyes sadly. "It was awful. I was…terribly hurt, mostly due to the fact that he loved the idea of a traditional wife far more than he loved me. I was so wrong about him; I thought he knew me better than anyone, but he didn't know me at all, and didn't care to. I really haven't trusted my ability to judge people since."
"He was a fool!" Oliver said vehemently.
His fervor stunned Grace, and she glanced at him in surprise. She gave him a slight smile. "I like to think so, but my family was furious with me. My mother was convinced I had thrown away my only chance of marriage. She still thinks that way. Mom and Dad never understood my desire for a career over what they thought I should want."
"I think that will always be a constant; parents' and children's inability to understand one another," Oliver intoned quietly, considering his own life in that light for the first time in a long time.
"What about you?" Emboldened by his interest and eager to leave the topic of Edward behind, Grace fully turned toward him. She was seized by a strong curiosity about his past, aware that she actually knew very little about him privately prior to her employment.
Her question shook him out of his reverie. "What about me?"
"Have you ever been married?"
"Me?!" he asked, as if the idea was so foreign he couldn't grasp it. "Good lord, no!"
"You sound terrorized! Are you against marriage for some reason?" she asked, trying to stave off the wave of disappointment she felt at his tone.
"No," Oliver hurried to reassure her, afraid for a moment that he'd given her the exact opposite impression of the course he intended to pursue. "Of course I'm not." He grew silent, but looked at her shyly out of the corner of his eye and offered, "I came close to marrying once, a very long time ago, but like you, it didn't work out; spectacularly so, in fact." He raised his eyes in a long suffering gaze at the heavens. "At this point I doubt any woman would want me," he said in an off-handed manner.
I do, whispered across her mind. Instead she asked,"Why do you say that?"
Her directness flustered him. "I'm…I'm too…." Old, difficult, stubborn, loud, opinionated, impatient, demanding. Believing the list too long to enumerate, he settled on, "I'm too me."
Grace broke into laughter, making her eyes sparkle in a most endearing way. "Why is that a problem? Don't you like yourself?"
Oliver chuckled with her. "Yes, very much for the most part, as you well know, but I doubt the qualities that I hold in esteem would be appealing to many women. At least I've never found them to be so."
A strange look came over her face. "Perhaps you've been asking the wrong women."
His laughter caught in his throat. Oliver's smile faded as he stared directly into her eyes. Just like in the garden, he found himself unable to think straight. "Perhaps I have," he admitted quietly.
After a moment of uncertainty, she took a deep breath and asked carefully, "Would you ever consider marrying?"
"Yes," he answered slowly. "I believe I would, if I could find a woman willing to put up with me." The last was only partly serious, meant to bring some levity to the conversation and calm his stampeding heart.
Grace took his comment at face value, however, replying, "I don't believe there's that much to put up with."
His heart started beating double time again. Unable to meet her gaze any longer, he turned away, afraid of what her eyes might reflect at his next question. "Grace," he began hesitantly, "are you still in love with Edward?"
After a short pause, she gently answered, "No, I'm not."
Her confession made his heart soar.
"I'm not sure I ever truly loved him at all," she said. At his confused look, she quelled her fear and added softly, "I don't see how I could have, when what I feel for you so completely eclipses anything I ever felt for him."
Oliver swung around to lock his eyes with hers in a piercing stare. He searched her face almost desperately. Breathing hard, he muttered, "Grace, I…. Do you…?" Then, with no warning, he pulled her to him for a searing kiss that made her knees weak and sent a jolt of desire racing through her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding him close as he continued to kiss her, heatedly, exploring every inch of her mouth and cheeks, reveling in the feel of his lips against her skin.
When he finished he didn't step back, but tugged her into a warm embrace so she could feel his heart hammering in time with hers.
At the same time, and in perfect harmony, each asked breathlessly, "Will you marry me?"
In stunned surprise they drew apart, regarding the other with wide eyes, and again at the same time each blurted, "Yes!" and then, "You will?!"
Grace dissolved into giggles, quickly followed by Oliver's low chuckle. Their giggles erupted into joyous laughter, and she threw her arms around his neck and he gave in to the impulse to swing her in circles.
"I love you!" he proclaimed forcefully.
"And I love you!" she answered, kissing him soundly while he still twirled her around the balcony.
He finally stilled, but didn't let her go, hugging her tight. His voice thick with emotion, he promised, "After we're married you can work as much as you like. I sincerely doubt I could make it through a morning without you, nor would I want to!"
Grace gave him a dazzling smile. "You've got yourself a deal, Oliver Warbucks!"
Early the next morning, Mrs. Greer went about her summer duties of opening the mansion's many doors and windows, checking that everything was in order. She knew those little girls who had warned Mr. Warbucks about Annie's kidnappers would be awake soon, and she wanted to get this activity finished before they required hers and the rest of the staff's attention.
She opened Mr. Warbucks' office door and went about tidying up from the previous evening. The orphans had left a few items out of position, and she returned them to their rightful place. Mr. Warbucks liked things to be where he expected them to be, and she doubted he'd take into account the unusual use the office had been put to last night if he couldn't find something. She surveyed the room proper, satisfied that all was as it should be, then turned to the back sofa to plump the pillows as a final task. She took two steps and lurched to a halt with a soft gasp.
Stretched out on the length of the sofa were Mr. Warbucks and Miss Farrell, her head pillowed on his arm and his nose buried in her hair, sleeping peacefully. His free arm draped over her hip and Miss Farrell's fingers were intertwined with his, a soft smile about her lips.
The housekeeper smiled softly herself. I'd say more than Annie was rescued last night, she thought with approval. Careful not to disturb them, she silently backed her way out of the room, discretely closing the door behind her.
THE END