A couple of weeks ago, naybaybay and I were discussing the movie King Uncle which was Bollywood's modern (at the time) take on the 1982 movie of Annie. This isn't so much a flowing story as it is blurbs based on events/scenes in King Uncle. It's not exact given the difference in countries, cultures, plot, and character personalities, but it was a lot of fun to put our Annie, Oliver, and Grace into similar scenarios as Munna, Ashok, and Fenni. I hope you enjoy it, and a special thanks to naybaybay for the encouragement to write this!

The decision to invite an orphan for the holidays hadn't been Oliver's idea. It had been Grace's orchestration. Where she got the idea, he hadn't a clue, nor did he particularly care. The fact was he had no better suggestion for a PR stunt, therefore agreed to take a boy in. Having left home at twelve, maybe he could relate to the child in some way. Who knows? Perhaps he'd recruit himself a young assistant. There could be a place for him in the future of Warbucks' Industries. At this point in his life, he's resigned himself to producing no heir. If he'd taken the time to be a husband and father, there would be nothing for a son to inherit.

He failed to remember his secretary had a knack for twisting his words around.

A girl! he lamented all the way to his office. He hadn't been home for ten minutes and already he felt a headache coming on. He knew he should have been home when the selection was made. He could have reminded her face to face that he wanted a boy. This girl – this Annie – she might have spunk, but what good did that do him?

Nevertheless, bringing her back would only waste more time. He got the sense he wouldn't hear the end of it from Grace, either. It wasn't often she picked a fight but she seemed intent on keeping the girl. Women. They got attached too quickly. By the end of the night, he decided it was probably better for her to have gotten a girl. This way, Grace was solely responsible. A boy would have latched onto him and taken him away from work. And who knows? Had that mutt of hers not been around, the assassin might've had better aim.

. . .

To his consternation, Annie became his shadow. Breakfast, she was there. Telephone conferences, she was there. Lunch, she was there. Meetings downtown, she was there. A couple of laps in the pool, she was there. And yet, she jabbered on about her tennis and karate lessons. It seemed like she was always there.

Though he refused to admit it aloud, he didn't entirely mind Annie's company. For the most part, she didn't bother him. Her questions were about his work or wondering how each machine worked. Of course, she had trouble keeping her democratic opinions to herself, but even that proved refreshing. Surrounded by yesmen, it was good to know there was one person his money had no influence over.

Well, maybe it was two people. Annie continued to spark a rebellious streak in Grace as well. It was clear that the child took precedence over work. As soon as she was called she'd drop whatever she was doing, and soon, it was without apology. If Annie made a valid point about something (which she so often did to his chagrin), Grace would try to persuade him to agree. While he'd never categorized Grace as one of the many yesmen in his life, the days where she'd blindly followed his every order seemed to be gone.

. . .

"Damn," Oliver growled as he slammed down the phone.

Grace and Annie both looked up from what they were doing, Annie being the first to ask, "What's wrong, Mr. Warbucks?"

"It's the Vermont factory."

"What about it?" Grace questions, her tone implying she already knew the answer.

"The blasted management. They fight more than school kids."

"Gee," Annie said. "That's a lot."

If he hadn't been so irritated, he might have smiled. "I'm going to have to go up there lest the whole place stop production. When will people learn? The aim of the game is to keep your job and food on the table. There's no time for this nonsense!"

Though both of their faces fell, Annie was the only one to voice her disappointment. "You're leaving now?"

Oliver was already standing, shoving papers into the briefcase that Grace had instinctively fetched for him. "I have to. The longer I wait the more money everyone involved loses. Selfish bas—"

"Sir!" Grace cut him off, gesturing to Annie."

He grumbled his pardon. "Hopefully this can be sorted out this afternoon and I'll be back late tonight."

"Know what I think you need, Mr. Warbucks?"

"I'm afraid to ask."

Walking over to Grace and reaching up so she could attempt to reach her shoulder, she said, "I think you need two intelligent women around to sort out those men's argument."

"Forget it."

"Annie," Grace said in a hushed tone. "You'll have much more fun here."

"Well, don't you at least need Miss Farrell around?"

"I need her here." He shook his head as he made another go for the door, not believing he was indulging the girl with this argument.

Making one last plea, Annie called out, "I've never been outside New York City before!"

Refusing to stop walking, he shouted back, "Do what you want, just get in the car!"

. . .

Oliver ignored Annie's constant chatter as he drove. Tried to, anyway. He'd never heard anyone so excited to see trees before.

"Just look at 'em, Miss Farrell! They're so tall! I thought only buildings got to be that high."

He could see Grace smile through the rearview mirror. She hadn't said much since leaving the house, looking completely stunned as she helped Annie into the car. He feared she'd take his invitation — really allowance — the wrong way. He merely wanted Annie to stop begging. Coming along for the ride didn't mean she'd be setting foot in the factory. He'd find a restaurant or something and let them eat dinner.

When the time came to tell her this, Annie objected vehemently.

"I thought I was comin' to see the factory…" she pouted.

"You were coming to see Vermont. This is it."

"Oh, please, Mr. Warbucks?! I just love watching you work. Besides, I need to learn as much as possible. Someday I might need to make a million dollars."

Grace's hand flew to her mouth to stifle a laugh, meeting the reflection of Oliver's glare.

"It's no place for a child. You and Miss Farrell are better off elsewhere."

"Oh, not Miss Farrell. You need her there."

"What for?" he asked, despite how many possible answers immediately came to mind.

"To remind you not to punch whoever's buggin' you."

Again, Grace tried to stifle a laugh, however, was not successful.

"I'm glad you're amused, Miss Farrell."

"I'm sorry, sir." She continued to grin. "She's right, you know. Your outburst with the cameraman the other day was the result of you being on your own for six weeks prior."

Vindicated, Annie said with a nod, "See?"

"Believe it or not, Annie, there was a time when Miss Farrell wasn't working for me and I had to get by on my own."

"How did that go?"

The only noise to be heard was the car's engine. Grace especially waited with nervous curiosity.

After a couple of minutes, he finally replied. "Let's just say it's a good thing she was looking for work when she was."

. . .

Yet again, Oliver lost to the ten-year-old. She made a valid point… he needed to be on his best behavior. Her and Grace's presence would assure that as much as possible. Still, he wasn't thrilled with the fact he'd become powerless against a child.

The meeting came and went in a blur, ultimately having to give ultimatums to keep the workers in line. Voices were raised and fists clenched, but after a long five-hour battle, all ends were in agreement. Production had to continue despite personal feelings. Too many people from the surrounding towns relied on their paychecks and no other jobs would be found this remote.

Annie took Oliver's hand as the three of them made their way back to the car. "That was really great, Mr. Warbucks!"

"What was so great about it? It was business."

"You'd just think that with all your money you wouldn't have to care so much about one little factory. You even said yourself that you'd probably end up makin' more money if you shut it down."

Oliver brushed it off, pulling his hand away. "Shutting down yet another factory would mean more bad press. I can't afford any more of that."

Not believing him, she said, "I think you care more about people than you want anyone to believe."

He snapped his head in her direction. "I beg your pardon?"

Annie smirked. "Miss Farrell's right. You're really a big softy on the inside."

Knowing she'd just set a flame, she ran off the rest of the way to the car, leaving Oliver to turn to Grace.

"I'm a what?"

With a nervous laugh, she replied through reddening cheeks. "Kids… They have such wild imaginations." She then hastened her steps.

Oliver raised an eyebrow. In a matter of days his dependable, unflappable secretary had turned into this shy, uncertain being that melted under the influence of this little girl. Then again, he'd given in to her as well. But that was for the sake of keeping her quiet in an effort to keep from losing time from work.

Wasn't it?

. . .

The ride home was much quieter aside from the rumble of their stomachs. It was well past dinner time and on such isolated roads there was nowhere to eat. At least nowhere that met Oliver's standards. Annie and Grace could only wish he'd give up his stubbornness one last time. Unfortunately, the car didn't give them that chance.

An internal thud shook the car. Grace reached out to hold Annie back against the seat, giving Oliver a pass for swearing in front of her as he tried to pull to the side of the road. Only then did he think to ask if they were all right.

"We're fine," Annie said.

Grace agreed.

"Did the car break, Mr. Warbucks?"

"It sounds like something fell out," Grace added.

Checking his mirrors, he looked for debris behind them. "I don't see anything." Opening the door, he glanced back at them. "Stay put. I'm going to check the engine."

"How are you gonna see anything?" Annie asked. "It's darker than I've ever seen out here."

"The headlights will have to suffice."

Grace and Annie waited while Oliver fussed around with the car, punctuating every bang with a different curse. Eventually, he asked Grace to move to the driver's seat and try the ignition.

"Turn the key!" he shouted when the car failed to start.

"I am," Grace said. "It's not turning on."

"Damn!"

"What's wrong with it?"

"The hell should I know?" he answered as he came around to the window. "I supply the parts for automobiles. I don't build them. I must've undone something."

"Are we stuck here?" Annie asked.

Grace sighed, letting her hands drop from the wheel. "I'm afraid so, dear."

"Of course we're not stuck," Oliver grumbled. "We have the radio. Scoot over, Miss Farrell."

She did as she was told. "Sir, I'm not sure if—"

He shushed her as he sat and reached for the mouthpiece. "Warbucks here. Oliver Warbucks. Does anybody copy?"

He waited a moment but only received dead air in return.

"Sir," Grace started again. "We're still in the mountains. I don't think there are many people around with receivers."

"Damn," he said again.

"What do we do?" Annie questioned. "Are we gonna have to walk back to New York?"

"We'll have to wait until someone else drives by and flag them down. Then they can send for a tow truck," Grace answered.

"Some good that'll do us tonight." He looked at his watch. "It's after nine o'clock. There isn't going to be anyone until morning. That is if we're lucky. We're in the middle of nowhere."

"Maybe there are some houses nearby. We could take a walk."

"Are you mad? I'm not leaving the Duesenberg on the side of the road!"

"Then why don't Annie and I wait here while you see if there are people around."

Oliver scoffed. "You really expect me to wander off at night? With the way this day has gone, I'll get lost or eaten by a mountain lion."

"Then we'll just have to wait."

. . .

By some miracle, they saw headlights approaching within the hour. Oliver leaped out of the car, nearly throwing himself in front of the other car to get them to stop.

A man stepped out of the car and Oliver wasted no time in telling him of their predicament.

The man whistled. "Who knew a beaut like that could ever break down."

"It's the blasted mountains."

"Well, I don't think you're going to be able to get a truck until morning. I'm happy to give you all a lift into town."

"You can take them," he gestured to Grace and Annie who had since gotten out of the car as well. "I'm not leaving my car here."

Grace stepped forward. "Sir, you can't stay out here alone."

"Sure I can. That way I'll be here when you call for help in the morning."

"No one is going to hurt the car. We'll find a place in town, get something to eat, and be back here first thing."

"And what if someone does?"

"Then you'll thank your lucky stars you weren't here to be brutalized along with it."

It wasn't often that Grace challenged him, but when she did, he was powerless against her. "Fine," he barked. "But we're back here at dawn!"

. . .

As they approached the nearby town, Oliver quickly realized that their accommodations would not be of the highest standard.

"Is there any hotel in this town?" he asked the man, John, he'd since learned.

"Afraid not. Not a whole lot of tourists come up this way. We have an inn, though. They'll put you up best they can."

His hopes hadn't been high after that. Still, he'd pictured a room for each of them or at least a room for him and a room for Annie and Grace. When John stopped the car, the building beside him looked no better than a boarding house.

"This is it?" he questioned.

"Yes, sir," John said.

Not letting Oliver get the chance to vocalize his dismay, Grace reached into her wallet and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. "Thank you very much for your help. I hope we haven't brought you too far out of your way."

"Not at all, ma'am." When Grace handed him the money, his eyes widened. "I can't accept this."

"Please, take it," she smiled. "We were sure we would be stuck on the road all night."

Reluctantly, he held out his hand. "Thank you… this helps a lot."

"Thank you."

When Grace got out of the car, she noticed Annie's gaze locked on the inn. "Is something the matter?"

"Is this a house, Miss Farrell?"

"Sort of. Now it's a little bit like a hotel. People rent rooms rather than suites. Mr. Warbucks' house is more like a hotel come to think of it."

"I've always wanted to see a house. It's like I imagined it, but also different."

"Are you coming?" Oliver shouted, ripping them both from the moment. "It's late enough as it is!"

. . .

"I can't believe there's only one room available."

"It's only for one night, sir," Grace said as she opened the door. "We're fortunate there was anything available at all."

"At least the nice lady said she'd bring us dinner!" Annie said.

Annie opened the door they'd been directed to, running inside without a second thought. However, Oliver and Grace found themselves lingering near the door upon seeing the size of the room.

"It is rather small, isn't it?" Grace said with a tightness in her voice.

Oliver eyes the twin-sized bed. "She could have at least mentioned the room only sleeps one."

"I think it's cute!" Annie said.

Grace forced a smile before looking back at Oliver. "As I said, it's only for one night."

"I knew I should have stayed with the car."

. . .

"Why aren't you eating your dinner, Mr. Warbucks? I thought you were hungry."

Scowling down at his plate, Oliver answered, "I don't eat potatoes."

"Then why do you have Mrs. Pugh make you Idaho potatoes?"

"It's the point of it. All-American cuisine. Other people eat them."

"Then eat your meat," Annie said.

"I don't eat venison, either."

"At the orphanage, we learn fast to eat whatever we're given because there's never gonna be anything better. Sometimes Miss Hannigan makes us skip our meals, too. Soon enough we don't care how gross the food is so long as it's something to eat."

"The least they could do is provide us with a proper meal rather than leftovers if they aren't going to give us another room."

"There aren't any left," Annie reminded. "And we already woke the inn lady up. I think it was real nice of her to make sure we have food."

"Must you see the positive side of everything?"

"What's the use of lookin' at the bad?"

Oliver looked across at Grace on the off chance she might take his side. "You can't tell me you like this stuff?"

"I grew up eating it. My father liked to hunt."

"I get the meat being kinda gross," Annie said after another bite, "but why don't you eat potatoes? They're real good — with real butter!"

"Unlike Miss Farrell, I don't have fond memories of the food I grew up eating. Potatoes are a poor man's food. I haven't eaten one in twenty years."

"If you don't want them, I'll eat them." She stuck her fork in his plate and took a big scoop of the mashed potatoes and plopped them onto her own. "Miss Farrell can have your… whatever this stuff is."

With a huff, he handed it to Grace. "It's all yours."

. . .

"Can I take the quilt to put on the floor, Miss Farrell?"

"Of course, dear."

After spreading it out, Annie said, "You can take it, Mr. Warbucks. It won't fit both of us and I'm fine without it."

"You expect me to sleep on the ground?"

Grace looked just as perplexed.

"You don't expect Miss Farrell to, do you?"

"Well, actually…"

Annie put her hands on her hips. "You can't ask a lady to sleep on the floor while you take the only bed. Of course, I'll be sleeping on the floor because I'm a kid. If there were another bed you could have it."

"I am not sleeping on the floor!"

"Annie—" Grace interjected. "Really, it's okay."

"It's not okay. Ladies first."

Grace shot a tentative look in Oliver's direction, more embarrassed than anything else.

"Go ahead, Miss Farrell," Annie said.

"I don't believe this," Oliver said.

Taking her spot on the floor, Annie said, "You ought to get some sleep, Mr. Warbucks. We're still far away from New York."

"Don't I know it."

. . .

Stubborn as always, Oliver refused to move over to the quilt Annie had laid out for him. He sat slumped in the same chair he'd not eaten his dinner in, now beginning to regret that decision. His stomach rumbled every time he managed to nod off.

He glared in Grace and Annie's directions. Who had he become? He didn't even fight for the bed. Then again, part of him knew it was a lost cause. He couldn't afford to anger Grace. Annie wouldn't let him, either.

It hit him suddenly how strange the arrangement was. Whenever he traveled with Grace they had their own suites. Now they were in a small room with a child. He never would have imagined this scenario with anyone. It felt so… domestic.

A kink in his neck forced him to sit up. He was going to have to move to the blasted floor. It seemed like a lateral move.

He minded his steps. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been confined to such a small space. Caution proved fruitless halfway across the room, stubbing his toe on the leg of the bed. He bit down on his knuckle to keep from yelling, surprised to realize he cared about such a thing. Once recovered, he looked down at Grace, sure that he'd woken her. But she looked as peaceful as ever. If she hadn't looked so pretty, he would have hated her for it.

He pressed his palms to his eyes. Those thoughts weren't okay.

Stepping over Annie, he practically dropped to the ground.

. . .

The floor was only a slight improvement from the chair. With no pillow, getting comfortable was impossible, but at least his back and legs were straight.

A sound distracted him from his tossing and turning. For a moment he feared the worst. Given how the day had gone, of course there would be a rodent scurrying around. Bug-eyed, he tried to see through the darkness, every shadow starling him. When he finally heard it again, he was relieved to discover the squeak had come from Annie and not vermin.

Sitting up, he moved and hunched over to look at her face. A nightmare, he figured, though she didn't seem like the type who was afraid of anything. But he should know better, he thought. Though she had a far more optimistic outlook on life than he ever had, he saw a lot of his young self in her. The nights were never easy.

She seemed to be shivering. If that was from her dream or the air, he wasn't sure. Thinking about it, he noticed it was a good deal chillier here in the mountains than in the stuffy city. She didn't have anything beneath her, either.

Without thinking, he took off his jacket and draped it over her. Her shaking stopped moments later. She then rolled over and into his side. In doing so, she captured his arm beneath her head.

He tried to break free, but it was no use. Waking her would only cause more problems.

No good deed goes unpunished…

. . .

Annie didn't move again all night. At some point, Oliver had collapsed onto his back, his arm extended as Annie's pillow.

She was the first to wake, smiling when she noticed Mr. Warbucks' coat wrapped around her. She was even more surprised to see him lying next to her.

"Good morning!" she greeted, waking both Oliver and Grace.

Oliver groaned, his finally freed arm stiff and achy while Grace opened her eyes and smiled at the sight beside her bed.

"Good morning," she reciprocated.

Standing up, Annie brushed off her dress. "I must'a been cold last night because Mr. Warbucks gave me his jacket." Handing it back to him, she thanked him.

Oliver glared at Grace, heading her not to make any sort of response.

She did her best to keep a neutral expression but wasn't successful.

. . .

While Annie was downstairs checking on breakfast and while Grace was in the shower, Oliver stretched out on the bed trying to ease the pain in his neck and shoulders. If they could get the car back on the road today, driving was going to be miserable. But if it meant not spending another night stuck in this little room, he'd happily walk back to Manhattan.

Over the running water across the hall, Oliver thought he heard Grace speaking. He listened carefully for a moment, eventually hearing her calling for Annie.

"She's downstairs," he called back, but she evidently didn't hear because she called her name again.

With a huff, he stood up and went into the hall so she could hear better. He'd made it as far as the threshold, seeing Grace had a similar thought.

"Mr. Warbucks!" she said with horror as she tightened the towel around her. "I thought you were downstairs!"

Covering his eyes, he said, "Annie decided to go! What are you doing walking around here like that?"

She retreated behind the bathroom door again. "I forgot the shampoo and soap in the room. I was calling for Annie to bring it to me."

"I'll get it. I'll get it."

Humiliation in her voice, she said through the slamming of the door, "Leave it outside."

. . .

At breakfast, Annie was so busy introducing herself to the other guests and borders that she hadn't noticed right away that Miss Farrell and Mr. Warbucks had their chairs turned away from one another. Even more surprising was seeing Mr. Warbucks scarfing down his breakfast, home fries and all.

"I thought you never ate potatoes?" she questioned.

"Hungry," was all he said.

Annie noticed Grace looking over her shoulder, but quickly turned away again.

"Did you two have a fight?" she asked.

"Eat your breakfast, dear," Grace replied.

"I've called a mechanic. We have to get back to the car once he picks us up."

Annie looked between the two once more before taking her seat between them. Adults can be so strange, she thought.

. . .

To Oliver's relief, the car was able to be fixed at the side of the road – at least temporarily. They would be able to get back to New York by lunchtime.

Thankfully, the morning's awkwardness had dissipated as the focus shifted to getting the car back in working order and a game plan to catch up on all the work they missed. Annie didn't interject much, still curious about the two of them and happy to play observer. Being away from the office seemed to have changed something even before breakfast. She hugged her arms, remembering the soft silk lining of Mr. Warbucks' jacket around her. Miss Farrell had been right when she said he wasn't as cold as he liked to think he was. She just never expected to see it so soon. Maybe that was it. Maybe Grace had said something to him about last night and he was embarrassed.

She felt a sudden sadness with the realization that her week was already half over. Chances were she'd never get to see the result of any plan she would come up with to get these two to realize how much they like each other.

. . .

"I can't believe I let her talk me into going to the movies after all the time we lost yesterday and this morning."

Grace smiled. "Admit it, sir. You like having her around."

He shrugged. "I suppose I do."

"And yesterday wasn't a total loss. We managed to save the factory."

"That's a relief. Perhaps I need to take you two along with Pittsburgh next."

"I'm sure she wouldn't object. So long as we have proper hotel arrangements this time."

Awkwardly, he said, "I apologize again about this morning."

Grace blushed. "It was an accident."

"Yes."

She tried to turn the subject. "All that aside, it was nice getting away. I know you just got back from a six-week tour, but I don't remember the last time I left New York."

"Not since the crash, if memory serves."

"Sounds right."

"You're due for a vacation."

She shook her head. "Annie's been the best vacation I could ask for."

"I dare say you've gotten too attached, Miss Farrell."

"Is that so wrong?"

A couple of days ago, the answer would have been an immediate yes. Now? He had to pause before settling on his answer. "Maybe not."