Oliver and Grace's time alone together was short. With identifying Annie's parents came a parade of FBI agents. They brought papers and what shreds of information they were able to uncover. Not much to pass along to Annie, only that they could presume from their last known address that they'd been too poor to care for her, and apparently sick as well. Their possessions were long gone, likely pawned by neighbors. If nothing else, it was closure, but Grace sensed after the last of the agents left that Oliver needed to be left alone.
Needing some space as well, she went up to her room to fix her hair and makeup. Upon seeing herself in the mirror, she felt a twinge of humiliation realizing Oliver had confessed his feelings to her while staring into raccoon eyes. The smudged mascara along with the smeared lipstick made her quite the sight, though the lipstick was Oliver's doing. Nonetheless, she couldn't believe she hadn't thought to check her face before now. She could only imagine what President Roosevelt and the FBI men were thinking.
After reapplying her makeup, she grabbed her shawl and slowly made her way to the stairs. As she passed Annie's room, she noticed the door ajar. She stopped to poke her head in but saw the room was empty and her suitcase was gone. Further down the hall, she looked at the grandfather clock. Not quite six yet. Her parents couldn't possibly have come yet. Drake wouldn't allow visitors at the hour expected or unexpected. She didn't let herself panic yet.
Reaching the stairs, she heard Annie humming to herself – a habit she'd noticed increasingly more since she'd told them about her parents. She sat at the bottom of the staircase with her trunk, lost in a daydream.
