DECEMBER 1933

"You mean they're really dead?" Hannah questioned.

Both Oliver and Grace gave solemn nods.

"Poor Annie…"

"Any idea about how we should tell her?" Grace asked.

Hannah's eyes widened. "You're asking me?"

Oliver couldn't hide his amusement. "You know her better than anyone."

"Used to," Hannah said, crossing her arms. "Normally I'd offer to tell her but I don't think she would believe me."

Grace took her hand. "I don't think that, but we don't expect you to be the bearer of bad news."

"If she wasn't mad she might take it better from me. I'm sure you figured out Annie doesn't like attention when she's upset about something."

"Indeed we have," Oliver said.

"How do you think we should approach her?"

Hannah shrugged. "I think just say it. Knowing Annie she'll probably know as soon as you both say you want to talk to her."

Grace frowned. "She already confessed to me that she thinks they're gone. I hate having to confirm it."

"She really said that?"

She nodded. "I know it's not my place to say so, but under the circumstances… That's part of what happened yesterday. She's been carrying that worry around. Those things tend to burst."

"I don't know what's happening. Annie and I used to tell each other everything. But I didn't want to tell her about my parents yesterday, either. Does this... does it mean we're not friends anymore?"

Grace wrapped an arm around the girl. "It doesn't mean that at all. Even best friends go through rough times."

"But we're in a castle pretty much. No one could ever be miserable in a place like this."

"Living in a nice house doesn't guarantee one's happiness." As Grace went on, her eyes wandered to Oliver. "It's the people inside it."

"Quite right," Oliver said, meeting her gaze for a few seconds before looking back down at Hannah. "Perhaps you both feel safe here. You're able to drop your guard."

"What do you mean?"

"He means that you girls aren't in survival mode anymore. You're free to be kids. You've all held so much in for so long. It's all coming out."

"Oh," she sniffed. "I guess."

"Do you know where Annie is now?" Oliver asked.

"At the pool with Molly I think. Annie's helping teach her how to swim. Giving her extra lessons, you know?"

"Maybe we shouldn't interrupt her," Grace said to Oliver who agreed.

"If you see her, will you tell her to come see us in the office?"

"I can try…" Hannah said.

. . .

Oliver wasn't sure why he thought catching an hour of work would be possible under the circumstances. While he was used to pushing through to distract himself from any unpleasantness, he hadn't taken into account Grace's own coping mechanisms. It wasn't often, but he'd known her long enough to know that she needed space and quiet when she was upset enough. Of course, she would never say as much but it showed in her work. Or rather, lack of work.

"Grace?" he said for the fourth time. "Never mind the diction."

"Sorry, sir."

"Oliver," he corrected.

"Right. Oliver. I'm sorry."

"I'm not looking forward to telling her, either, but she's got a good head on her shoulders. Going by what you've told me, it sounds like she's already braced herself for the possibility."

"Even so, it's never easy to hear that a parent has died. I'm sure it's worse when it's both of them."

"Why is that?"

Grace quirked an eyebrow. "Why is what?"

"Why is it so difficult to deal with the death of a parent? I don't mean when you've grown up with them and remain close. That's understandable. But why in other situations? I mourned my father more than my mother even though I hardly knew him. I still feel haunted when her anniversary comes around even though it's been decades and I can go all year without thinking about her once. Hannah wanted distractions all day even though she claims she can hardly even remember what they looked like. And you… when your father died you were out of sorts despite having spent a good five or six years trying to keep away from him."

She stiffened. "He was my father."

"A terrible one," he scoffed.

"True, but that was all part of it. It hit me then that those bad moments were the last moments. Even though I knew amends would never be made, it was disheartening knowing it had become impossible. There was a sense of relief and of grief. He was the last of my family as far as I know. I might have been an adult when it happened, but I think the reaction wasn't too unlike what Annie will have to face. She's alone in the world now."

"But she's not alone," Oliver said, standing from his chair and coming around to sit against the front of his desk before Grace. "And neither were you."

"Annie is blessed to have friends like Hannah and Molly. Hopefully, she will come to see us as her allies as well. But I didn't have that so much."

Masking his hurt, he said, "Nonsense. I remember sitting up all night with you."

Absentmindedly reaching for his hand, she said, "I don't mean I was out support. I'm grateful for all that you've done for me — even when I didn't know about it — but things were different between us then. Granted, I don't really know what they are between us now, but I'll leave it at there were more barriers between us. I was very much your secretary and you very much my boss. I had your friendship, but it was with limitations. I know that sounds strange knowing what I know now, but you know what I mean."

He squeezed her hand. "Yes."

"Things… they feel more permanent now. Adopting those girls? That's a commitment to them and ourselves."

"Were you so afraid I'd fire you one of these days?" he half-teased.

"Not for a while now," she chuckled, "but this does sort of bind us in a way. We might not be going into this as a traditional set of parents, but when it comes down to it, that's what we will be to them. Especially little Molly. She's so young and might not understand the difference."

Letting her hand slip from his, Oliver said, "I told you we'd work out the logistics later. Right now we need to focus on telling Annie about her parents and go from there."

"I know," she said with a sigh. "It's only I think it's in our best interest to know we're on the same page."

He stared at her a moment before saying, "I'm not sure what that page is at the moment. There's so much that's happened in a short amount of time. Life-changing things."

"I'm well aware," she replied as she stood. "But there were some things in motion before the girls entered the picture. Oliver?"

"I can't deny that now," he mumbled, looking away.

Stepping close to him, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

"What was that for?"

"For agreeing to take the girls in and for everything else you've done for me other the years."

He surprised her with a laugh. "I wish I could claim I did this solely for you. Word's going to get out that I'm a softie."

"That isn't so terrible."

"Soft hearts don't make millions."

"You have more money than you could possibly spend in your lifetime. Maybe it's time to retire."

"Never," he huffed, "but I could be convinced to settle down… in time."

"That's a start."

A slow smile formed on his face.

"What?" Grace questioned when his eyes remained fixed on her.

"I don't know when it happened."

"When what happened?"

Seconds later, he shook his head. "Never mind."

"Oliver…"

"This business with Annie and the girls first. Then we can talk about us."

Though disappointed, she agreed. "I'm going to hold you to it."

"I know."

NOVEMBER 1925

"Your father passed away, Grace."

Even after the funeral arrangements and getting the house emptied out, Grace remained unsure of what her response was to the news Oliver had given her weeks before. While she was busy, she'd managed to push the conflicting emotions aside for later. Now that she was sitting in the shell of what once had been her home, the thoughts grew louder. She hadn't seen her father since that night five years ago. She'd go as to say he'd been dead to her since then, but the reality of being the last member of her family alive was unsettling.

She never expected to be back in this house again, but now that she was, she was struggling to finish packing the last few boxes. Though she was eager to get back to New York, knowing she could never come back to her childhood home had brought on a bought of melancholia the last few days. The mansion was her home now, but Connecticut was the last essence that remained of her mother.

Tedious as the process was, she was grateful she hadn't passed off the responsibility to someone else. Coming home allowed her to reclaim some of the cherished belongings she left behind when she ran away. It amounted to a single box, but it was the only thing keeping her from a complete breakdown.

She wondered why she was feeling such loss. There had been an initial relief. Despite the sense of security that built as she grew older, knowing he was gone meant she could finally stop feeling like she had to keep one eye over her shoulder. It was a habit that couldn't entirely be broken with age. But with that went the small hope she hadn't realized she harbored that someday things might change. She hadn't been scared of him her entire life. She wanted to have her father in her life. It was the drunken brute he'd become that she kept away from. Somehow, somewhere inside her, she envisioned age mellowing him. He hadn't even made it to sixty.

It wasn't surprising, of course. No one seemed to know exactly what the cause of his death was. The speculation was a heart attack, but the way he looked when she saw him told her something else had been going on as well. Accounts from neighbors confirmed this though he'd never led on to being sick. The conversation never got much farther than this. Everyone was too curious about where she had been all these years. Most of those comments had been in an accusatory tone. She didn't care to venture their reasoning.

A knock on the door pulled her out of her latest stupor. Running her sleeve over her face, she rose to answer. At that moment, she hoped it was the people from the Salvation Army showing up a day early to help push her along. More likely it was one of the neighbors making an obligatory check on her. The last person she expected was Oliver.

"Mr. Warbucks… what are you doing here?"

"I know you're coming home soon. I figured you might need some help."

Stepping aside, she let him in. "That's very kind of you."

"Too little too late, I see. You're nearly done."

She shrugged.

"Did you have help?"

"No, not really."

He frowned. "I wish you would have told me. I would have come and helped."

"You have enough on your plate. I appreciate it, though."

"I'll say. The office is hell without you around. I never realized how dependent I've become on you."

Amused, Grace nodded. "Ah, so that's the real reason you're here. To make sure I don't take my time getting back to the city."

"Guilty," he said with what for him could be considered a smirk. "It's been over a month."

"I apologize. I didn't realize how long all of this would take. There's probably more I should be doing. Being here is difficult."

"I understand." He looked around the room. "Not at all how I imagined it."

"What did you expect?"

"I'm not sure. I guess something a bit more run down. I met your father that one time. I'm surprised he kept this up."

"He didn't," Grace said as she pushed some boxes aside so she and Oliver could sit. "Not well. This place was a mess. Old newspapers stacked, bottles everywhere, clutter everywhere you turned... it made sorting through things a lot easier, I'll admit. But I knew straight away the only things worth saving. I'm donating it all. The rest will be up to the realtor."

"It's a cute place. Should go quickly."

"Hopefully the family who buys it will have some happier memories."

"I'm sorry," he said as he sat next to her.

"You don't need to be." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I apologize. I'm out of sorts."

"I really do wish you'd told me you were alone here. Even though I was a kid when my parents died, I know how overwhelming it can be."

She pursed her lips for a few seconds before saying, "I never expected his passing to hit me so hard."

He didn't know how to reply.

Grace shook her head. "I guess I feel guilty. Like maybe I made him out to be worse than he was in my memory."

"I guarantee that isn't the case."

"How can you be sure? You only met him one time."

He took a second before answering. "I still remember what he said to you. You don't deserve to be spoken to that way by anyone, least of all a relative."

"It was his way. He'd say that to anybody."

"You're not anybody, Grace. You were his child."

"All the more reason I should have reached out again."

"He hurt you Grace. There's a reason you left home when you did."

"I know that," she snapped. "That doesn't mean I don't wish things had been different. I'll never know if he had a change of heart before he died. I cut him out completely and didn't allow for any chance for repentance."

"Listen to me, Grace... some people don't change. They don't want to change or they can't. You don't need to feel guilty for getting away. I spent my adolescence on the streets. I learned how to sense when a man was dangerous and I got that sense instantly from your father. It only increased when you entered the room. I'm aware I have a limited vantage point of the situation, but my instinct has led me to where I am today. I stand by it."

Grace covered her face with her hands. Oliver stared motionless as he watched her struggle to keep herself composed. She mostly managed it when she sat up again, although she couldn't hide the wetness around her eyes. "I know you're right. That doesn't make the truth any easier. I just wish that what happened that night wasn't my last memory of him. That or the night I left. I wish it all had been different. I'd rather be sitting here recollecting the good times rather than trying to talk myself into something untrue. It's just that most of the people around here see me as the villain. They think I'm a selfish brat who abandoned her father for the big city. The stories some people told at the funeral were so convincing... it's made me wonder how much of this was in my head all along."

"A spoiled brat doesn't choose death on the street over going back home. Rebellion only goes so far."

"Logically I know that," she sniffed. "But I can't help but question if I blew things out of proportion."

"Once you're back in New York your head will clear and you'll see things for what they are and were. To hell with the people who were fooled. You won't be seeing them again."

"I suppose not."

"Come on, is there anything I can do to help you finish up? We could catch the last train back to New York tonight."

"If it's all the same to you, I think I'd like to stay another night. People should be coming by tomorrow to get this stuff. I should be here for it."

"Then let's go grab a late dinner. It looks like you could use a break from this place."

Grace scoffed. "Am I that obvious?"

"To someone who's been there."

"It's a nice thought, but this is a small town. Nothing's going to be open."

"Oh."

"I can cook you something if you're hungry. I have to use up the food anyway."

"You sure it's no trouble?'

Grace smiled. "Not at all."

. . .

Making dinner for someone turned out to be a good distraction for Grace. It was great to see Oliver again, too. She hadn't realized how much she missed him. She found it sweet that he seemed to miss her as well, even if it was based on her absence from the office. She wasn't sure, though. He had come all this way.

"This is strange," Oliver said as she cleared away the dishes.

"What is?"

"Sitting at a kitchen table. I don't think I've sat down to a meal like this since my mother died."

"Really?"

"I was either eating scraps or eating on the go. It wasn't until I hired Mrs. Pugh that I really started eating at regular mealtimes again."

She thought about it for a moment. "I never realized that. For myself, I mean. Until coming back here, I haven't cooked since you hired me. I can't quite claim I've been eating regular meals, though. It's been so hectic."

"It feels so domestic."

She chuckled as she ran the water. "I've forgotten what domestic feels like."

"So had I until now."

A few minutes passed while Grace washed each plate and pan. When she moved on to drying, she turned around and leaned against the sink. "Do you ever think of living a more 'domestic' life? Maybe not in a house like this, but you know, settling down? Starting a family?"

"Nope," he said without pause. "No time for one."

"There's nothing you miss?"

"Never thought about it."

"I suppose I haven't either. I always remember what I got away from rather than what I left behind. That's changed a bit since being in this house again."

"So I gathered."

Abandoning the dishes, she sat back down. "I'll snap out of it once I'm back in New York. I've missed working. I like feeling like I'm doing something productive."

"This is productive in its way."

"But it's personal. I've realized I like standing next to the person who makes decisions, not being the one who makes them."

"You get used to it," he said with a slight shrug.

"I don't think it's something I want to get used to."

"That suits me fine. You're indispensable."

"It's nice to know I'm wanted somewhere."

Oliver sighed. "I hate seeing what being here has done to you."

"Sorry."

"You don't need to apologize. I just hope you realize you're more than what anyone here seems to be leading on. You did what you needed to do. Your father made his own decisions."

"Thank you, sir."

Standing, he said, "Why don't you give me a tour of the house? I'm always looking for good real estate to invest in."

Grace rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't call this a prime location."

"No, but it's not a bad home to rent out. Needs some fixing up, of course, but I might just give you a competitive offer."

"Don't you dare. You've done enough for me."

"Think of it this way; if I buy the place on the spot I won't have to give you more time off down the line."

"As tempting as that offer is, I think you were right about me needing to get away from here. If you owned it I might be tempted to visit." A couple of seconds passed, then she forced some semblance of a smirk. "Unless of course you're thinking you'd like a domestic little country vacation home should you ever change your mind about wanting a family."

He scoffed. "Inconceivable."

"Never say never, Mr. Warbucks. Some woman might just sweep you off your feet one day."

Now it was Oliver's turn to roll his eyes. "Don't count on it."