Annie's first week at the mansion did bring a lot of changes, however, everyone was in agreement that life in the Warbucks household had never been better. There was singing. There was joy. There were smiles. It was impossible to feel sad about anything for long with Annie's inherent optimism.

But then things took a turn.

"She has parents," Grace said, obviously fighting back tears.

Drake knew by now of course. Everyone did. And everyone put on a brave face for the child's sake, no one leading onto how crushed they were to discover she didn't want to make a home for herself here. But who could blame her? Most of them could relate all too well to wanting their parents. Maybe for her it wasn't an impossibility.

"How is Mr. Warbucks really taking it?" he asked.

"Badly. You should have seen his face once he thought everyone had gone. I don't know if he realized I was still in the room. Annie was too busy writing a letter to her friends to notice anything."

"And since then?"

"Back to his stoic self and planning a trip to Washington the day after tomorrow."

"He must be depressed. I didn't hear him complain once about seeing President Roosevelt."

Leaning her elbows on the table (much to Drake's horror), Grace said, "I wish there was something I could do. When we had a moment alone, I tried to get him to talk. He refused, no surprise."

"I suspect once she's gone it'll mean business more than ever for all of us."

"Do you really think we'll find them?"

"Are you doubting Mr. Warbucks' capability?"

"No," she snipped, "I'm saying do you think there's really a possibility that Annie's parents are still out there? With that note, you'd think they would have been back for her by now. Either they're gone or don't want to be found."

"It's difficult to tell nowadays."

"Maybe I'm just being selfish and bitter."

"Of course you aren't. We all want Annie to stay."

"I feel as though you're the only one I can be honest with about this. I apologize."

Drake reached across the kitchen table and squeezed her hand. "You can be honest with me about anything."

"Thank you, Drake. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He smiled, though tried to maintain a sense of seriousness. "We've got a long couple of days cut out for us. How many people do you think will show up after the radio broadcast he's arranged?"

"It's hard to say. Desperate times, you know. Thank goodness we have the locket, otherwise, I think just about anyone could claim her."

"What happens if, perhaps, someone manages to guess that question on the form, but they aren't her real parents?"

"Do you think its likely? A locket, maybe, but half?"

"There's always the possibility."

"We'll have to deal with it then if that does happen."

"And then if people show up with the other half? Her actual parents?"

Pursing her lips, Grace replied, "Another thing to deal with at the time."

. . .

While Grace and Drake had planned on a big showing, they hadn't anticipated hundreds and hundreds of people storming the gates and lining up in the streets. Oliver had been wise to take Annie along with him to Washington. Heaven knows what people might have done at the sight of her.

"A dozen more couples just showed up, Miss Farrell. Are there any more questionnaires?"

It wasn't until he was standing in front of the desk that he realized she was wiping her cheeks, her eyes red and puffy.

"Miss Farrell?"

"I'm sorry," she sniffed. "Weak moment."

"It's been a long day," he said, offering a sympathetic smile.

"Yes," she then said, answering his previous question. She shuffled through the papers, mostly discarded questionnaires, on the desk until she found the last stack of what had been printed. "We'll have to make more soon."

Her voice was so weak – so unlike Grace.

"Would you like me to take over from here? You deserve a break."

She shook her head. "I've got to find that kid her parents."

Narrowing his eyebrows, Drake questioned, "Weren't you the one who said last night that you didn't have high hopes of finding them?"

"That was then, this is now," she snapped. "She believes it, so I have to believe it. Mr. Warbucks is counting on me."

"I don't think he anticipated this, either. You have your limits."

Normally she'd argue the point. She prided herself on efficiency and the ability to be unfazed. But looking at the papers surrounding her, coming face to face with some people willing to lie and take advantage of a child in the name of fifty thousand dollars, she couldn't pretend she had much more in her. "Perhaps I should send Mr. Warbucks a telegram. He should know what's been happening."

Drake nodded. "While you do that, I'll interview the people who've just arrived."

"Thank you," she said as she stood.

"I'll tell Mrs. Pugh to bring you a sandwich as well. Have you eaten since breakfast?"

"I didn't get a chance to eat breakfast at all."

"Off you go then," he said, pointing theatrically to the door. "That's an order."

With a smirk, she playfully rolled her eyes. "Yes, sir."