Chapter 2: Gonna Like It Here
"It's occurred to me that no matter how many houses I have, how many Rembrandt's, how many Duesenberg's, that unless I have someone to share it with, well, I might as well be back in Liverpool…broke."
Breakfast the following morning was a splendid affair. Grace was the only member of the staff that took meals with Oliver Warbucks, and for the longest time, she had believed it was only because he lacked for proper company of his own. Whereas normally Grace would sit to the left of Oliver's place at the head of the table, taking quiet spoonfuls of her oatmeal as Oliver looked over his stocks, this morning she watched Annie dig happily into her pancakes, feeling nearly lightheaded with elation as Oliver affectionately gripped her hand beneath the table.
"Annie," Oliver began finally, reluctantly looking away from Grace to settle down to business, "There's something that I-that is, we-" he corrected himself, "-well, Grace and I…" Oliver frowned as he struggled to express his intent, "would like to talk to you about."
Annie looked up from her pancakes and slowly lay her fork down with a puzzled expression, and Oliver cleared his throat. He glanced at Grace, who nodded and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze beneath the linen tablecloth, before continuing.
"Annie," he resumed, "Obviously there are some matters that need to be…addressed….after last night. Namely, er, the business of where you belong…"
Annie, unusually silent, cast a stricken glance at Grace, who quickly intervened.
"What Mr. Warbucks is trying to say, Annie-"
"Oliver," Oliver corrected gently, and Annie grew further confused at the correction as Grace nodded and continued.
"What Oliver is trying to say," she pressed, casting a reassuring gaze at the man, "Is that, now that certain factors have changed-"
"My parents," Annie supplied softly.
"Yes, Annie," Grace nodded sadly, "Your parents...Mr. War-Oliver- would like to extend you a place to stay, in his home. Officially."
"If you'll have me," Oliver finished hopefully, pulling the Tiffany's box from his lapel and presenting it uncertainly to the girl.
A sly smile broke across Annie's face as she looked first to Grace and then to Oliver, her expression one of mingled hope and disbelief.
"Would I ever!" she exclaimed, leaping from her seat and throwing her arms around Oliver's neck. Oliver chuckled in surprise and embraced the little girl, and then smiled at Grace, whose eyes shone as she looked on happily.
"There's something else," Oliver announced, more confident now, "Something that, well, may come as a surprise. You see…" Oliver reached again for Grace's hand, before continuing, "Miss Farrell, I mean Grace," he corrected himself, before puttering off. There was a brief silence as Annie looked on perplexedly. "Well Annie, I know you once said that I didn't even know Miss Farrell's first name, but I do. It's Grace," Oliver noted unnecessarily, his words coming out in a rush, "And well, the truth of the matter is…we've grown quite close, you see."
Annie's expression grew quizzical as she seemed to catch on, glancing from Oliver to Grace and then down to their clasped hands.
"You mean…?" she breathed hopefully, turning back to Oliver with wide eyes.
Oliver grinned.
"Sliced bread," he confirmed pointedly, nodding to indicate Grace.
"Sliced bread!" Annie exclaimed gleefully, emitting a shriek and a giggle that quickly turned into giddy laughter as she and Oliver shared a knowing look. "Oh, Miss Farrell!" Giggling and talking a mile a minute, Annie launched herself at Grace, who appeared mystified by the exchange that had just taken place between Oliver and the little girl but was smiling broadly, none the less. Oliver smiled too, watching as Grace looked on with utter adoration as Annie danced about. Drawn to the commotion, Sandy bounded into the dining room, tail wagging, licking at Grace's hand and barking excitedly, adding to the mix. Oliver looked on contentedly, musing quietly at the idea that twenty years of hard work had never accumulated anything close to what a week spent with Annie had gained him: a family.
He smiled to himself as Annie bounded towards the open doors of the terrace, spilling happy exclamations at Punjab, and turned to Grace as she took his hand.
"Someone's pleased," Oliver chuckled.
"Very," Grace laughed, squeezing his hand affectionately as they looked after the girl. "Oliver?" she queried after a moment, her expression turning to one of mild confusion as she turned again to meet his gaze, "Whatever did she mean...'sliced bread'?"
To which Oliver laughed, a great, bellowing, happy laugh, and replied:
"Because, my dear. She knows," he explained lovingly, his usual serious tone playful, "that I think you," Oliver paused, leaning forward to cup Grace's cheek in his palm, before finishing, his expression soft: "...are the greatest thing since sliced bread."
After which Grace laughed -a joyous, beautiful sound- and blushed deeply.
It was Oliver who had first suggested it -the party- and Grace got to work on its execution right after breakfast. One might have argued they had cause for celebration...It was July 4th, 1932. What better way to celebrate than with a stupendously over-the-top Independence Day celebration? Or perhaps it was an Independence Day themed adoption party. Either way, it was one which, once Oliver succumbed to the notion, seemed to blossom into the perfect outlet for his newfound intentions.
He found Annie outside on the terrace just before lunch, and he approached the little girl seriously, a grand idea at mind. Grace had been running about all morning, making phone calls and supervising the food preparation with Mrs. Pugh in the kitchens, while simultaneously tending to the daily demands of the estate. The house buzzed with an eager anticipation, though Annie, as children often do, remained blissfully unaware as to why.
"Annie," Oliver intoned, leaning forward to scratch Sandy behind the ears, "I've had an idea, something I'd…like you to help me with," he ended brightly, buoyed by the notion.
"Sure, Daddy Warbucks!" Annie grinned, "Do you need Sandy's help, too?" she asked hopefully, brushing off her dress as Sandy jumped up and placed both paws against her front, "He still likes to jump sometimes, but we're working on it!"
"Not today, just you," Oliver chuckled, tucking his hands behind his back and motioning for Annie to follow as he strode across the terrace. "You see, I need…an opinion, someone to help me make a choice."
"Sure!" Annie nodded eagerly, falling into step beside him.
"I've…well-" Oliver stopped, turning to the girl, and Annie pulled up short. "I'm going to ask Grace to marry me. Tonight."
Annie swelled.
"Oh, boy!" she exclaimed, causing the ever-watchful Punjab to smile to himself from his place on the veranda. "Gee, Daddy Warbucks, you sure don't waste any time! Miss Farrell's gonna be so happy!"
"I'm a busy man," Oliver smiled, "I'm rather impatient. I don't like to wait!" he insisted seriously, building steam. "I love Grace, I love you…power and capitalism be damned!"
Annie smiled eagerly, her expression anticipant.
"Are you gonna get her a ring?" she demanded excitedly, "Is that what you need my help for? Picking a ring for Grace?"
"It is indeed," Oliver indulged, grinning as Annie's eyes grew wide and she puffed out her chest importantly. Her new locket glittered against her collar in the sunlight, and she smiled as Oliver offered her his hand and together they strode off in the direction of the Duesenberg.
It was the perfect setup, Oliver noted satisfactorily. Grace was busy planning for the party, distracted from Annie and Oliver's mid-afternoon trip into the city, while Annie herself was distracted from the evening's plans by the prospect of choosing a ring for Grace. Oliver grasped Annie's hand as The Asp opened the car door, hardly noticing anymore how the crowd on the sidewalk seemed to part before him in awe as he led the ten year old through the bustle and into Tiffany's.
"Oliver Warbucks!" The attendant practically fell over himself as they entered the jeweler's, "Good afternoon, sir!"
"Hello," Oliver replied, suppressing a wry smile, amused at the affect his presence seemed to have on the general public, "This is Annie." He motioned to the little girl that kept his hand, earning himself a strange look from the attendant, which was quickly -if not necessarily quick enough- recovered.
"Gee, you've sure got a lot of nice stuff!" Annie noted, the shine of the nearest display case sparkling in her wide gaze. The salesman glanced at Annie distractedly, noticed Oliver's wandering eye, and quickly strode out from behind the counter.
"We've got a very nice selection of cufflinks right over here, sir-"
"I'm not here for cufflinks," Oliver frowned. The idea irked him…Shopping for his own cufflinks…Why -he realized with a start- sometime in the four years since he'd hired Grace he'd stopped making trips to Fifth Avenue for any sort of the little nuisances his wardrobe so often required. Grace did all of his shopping for him. Distracted, a moment passed as Oliver marveled at her competence. Why, he hadn't been sized for a suit or jacket in years. Everything he needed was always just…there, in the style he preferred, exactly where and when he needed it…
Oliver was still musing over this discovery as the attendant took a pointed step to the right, in the direction of the men's jewelry.
"We've just received an exquisite new pocket watch, one of a kind…"
Oliver's frown deepened.
"I'm here for a ring," he explained brusquely, allowing Annie to pull him towards the nearest display case.
"Of course, sir," the salesman fumbled eagerly, trailing after them, "What did you have in mind?"
"An engagement ring," Oliver intoned.
"With a big diamond!" Annie chirped enthusiastically, and Oliver chuckled.
"With a big diamond," he agreed wholeheartedly.
The salesman, a rather nice looking fellow in a suit and tie, stared strangely at the pair of them for a moment, and Oliver interpreted the look grimly. His reputation as a rather cold-hearted businessman probably didn't garner any grandiose ideas of marriage to the common Page Six reader…He noticed that Annie had her palms pressed up against the glass of a tall display case and, rather inexperienced in the area, Oliver leaned over to peer in alongside her.
"Mr. Warbucks! Our top accountholder…a pleasure!" The manager had appeared suddenly alongside them, his expression extremely polite. He opened his arms to welcome them in the direction of a pristine glass cabinet, beneath which a multitude of engagement rings sat nestled upon a velvet display, gleaming attractively.
His praise gave Oliver an idea, and the billionaire looked between the manager and attendant importantly.
"My account…" he instructed, enlightened, "It's managed by my personal secretary, Grace Farrell."
"Ah, Miss Farrell," the manager agreed helpfully, "A very pleasant woman, sir. Excellent taste," he added approvingly.
Oliver's eyes flashed. Annie -whose hand was still in Oliver's own- stared up at the exchange, beginning to fidget.
"Yes, well," he implored eagerly, "Which of this," Oliver waved a hand through the air, indicating the numerous glass displays, "has been of interest to Miss Farrell, whenever she's in? What in particular does she like to look at?"
The attendant and the manager shared a look. Oliver and Annie awaited a reply with twin looks of expectation.
"Well, out with it!" Oliver demanded impatiently.
"Sir," the manager stepped forward. Under the keen eye of Oliver Warbucks, he found it best to be honest with the billionaire, "Miss Farrell, she's...very professional-"
"All business," the attendant agreed with a nod.
"I'm sorry sir, but...well, I've never seen her look for herself-"
"Never a glance…" the attendant added thoughtfully.
"She does have a very keen eye when it comes to you, Mr. Warbucks. Always knows exactly what she wants..."
"Excellent taste…" the attendant echoed thoughtfully. Their speculation dwindled into silence, and a strange look overcame the billionaire's face as the two men and Annie peered anxiously up at him.
How he had never realized until now, Oliver couldn't fathom...He had found a true marvel in Grace Farrell.
…The only woman who had never coveted him for his billions.