Merry Christmas! I always have the urge to write a little something Annie related come this time of year but struggled to come up with something to write this time around. I apologize if it's rambly. I just let the words take their course. I hope everyone had (and is continuing to have) a great holiday!

1932

Oliver wasn't much for the holidays. People were noisier than usual. People shook him down for charity three times as often. People invited him to more parties than he wished to attend in a year let alone a month. It was too much. Christmas was for people with families. Children. Aunts and uncles. He had none of these and was glad of it.

He couldn't believe he'd been roped into throwing a party of his own. A Christmas party no less.

"It's good press, sir," Grace reminded him as he paced his office as she read the guest list aloud. "You public relations team—"

"They're getting replaced as soon as this nonsense is done with."

"You don't mean that."

"I do. I don't want to know what cockamamie idea they have in store for me next."

"Hosting a Christmas party is a fine idea," she said. "At least, it's nothing out of the ordinary. Not for someone in your position."

"It's out of the ordinary for me. Parties are a waste of time when you get to the top. Before then I tolerated them for networking. Those days are done for me, praise God. I have no interest in going back."

"And you wonder why people have started viewing you as a curmudgeon?"

"Don't start with me, Grace."

Flipping the papers back to the front, Grace stood. "Gripe all you want, it's happening. You can't cancel the night before. Then you'll need damage control for the damage control."

"What do they expect from me?" he ranted. "To be Father Christmas?"

"Hardly."

"Can't you just host this thing for me? Tell everyone I'm sick."

"You won't get away with that excuse twice."

Oliver quirked an eyebrow.

"A couple of years ago, remember? You agreed to attend a fundraiser and sent me last minute instead."

"Ah yes, but I did have a valid excuse that time—"

"So you admit that you have no excuse now."

"I didn't say—"

"I promise, Mr. Warbucks," she said, interrupting him again, "it will be fine. It's one evening and then you can go back into your shell."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not in a shell, I'm busy. Too busy to make merry with a bunch of people who are only looking to gain something from being in the same room as me."

"That's not true."

"Is it?" He grabbed the list from her hands and began pointing to various names. "All these people? They're ones who didn't make the cut for the Rockefellers or the Vanderbilts. I could buy and sell them but they have the prestige."

"Perhaps if you mingled more with people you could have similar guest lists."

"Damn prestige," he barked. "Old money. Their kids will never learn to appreciate a dollar. They haven't had to work for it. I don't mean inheriting their fathers' businesses. I mean starting from the bottom working menial jobs, backbreaking labor, and wondering if a weeks wages will cover both rent and food. Their rejected guests end up cast off to me because they can get away with it. If I wanted a party, I'd throw a party. I'd invite the people I want."

"Then why don't you?" Grace questioned, unfazed by his tirade.

"Because there happens to be no one I want to invite. The people that matter to me are in this house. Even then they're only here because I sign their paychecks. There's no celebration to be had."

Grace's expression quickly went from a smile to a frown.

He went on. "Christmas is simply a reminder that none of us are with our families. Better to keep working than to dwell on it."

"That's not true," she said quietly.

Oliver was sitting at his desk across the room now. "What's that?"

"Nothing, sir," Grace said sadly.

. . .

There was one thing that made Christmas and parties worthwhile to Oliver — a chance to see Grace dress up. He found his eyes fixed on her as she descended the stairs, a smile almost tugging at his lips before remembering there was a dining room full of guests waiting for him.

"Were you waiting for me?" she asked as she reached the bottom step.

"I'm not going in there alone," he grumbled.

"Oh," was all she said.

Though he wasn't the most observant when it came to people's moods, Oliver had noticed Grace had been unusually quiet today. He'd blame it on Christmastime blues, assuming she was missing whatever family and friends she wasn't with, but the holiday itself wasn't for another few days.

"Are you all right?"

She looked surprised at the question. "Fine, why?"

"You don't seem yourself."

Looking away, she shrugged. "You're not the only one eager for this party to be over."

He couldn't blame her. He'd left her with the brunt of the planning. "Well then, let's get in there. The sooner we do the sooner it will be finished."

. . .

The party went on fine. Oliver had memorized his host spiel as though it was a speech. From there he went table to table as was expected, often getting interrupted by someone who didn't feel they were getting enough attention. He tuned out as much of what was being said as he could, but enough broke through that by the time dessert was being served, he found himself escaping to the washroom just to get a few minutes of quiet.

His few minutes turned into an hour and was now wandering the halls, feeling as though he may burst given all the time he was wasting. He knew he couldn't go to the office. That would be the first place people looked for him. At least he stood a chance hiding in plain sight. That is, to everyone besides Grace. He was more shocked that it had taken her so long to come after him than when she did finally approach him.

"Your guests are leaving," she said angrily.

"I couldn't take it anymore," he replied.

"Everything was going fine."

"Let it alone, Miss Farrell. I'm not in the mood."

"You have to at least see people out. Fake a smile and wave goodbye."

"You're one to talk," he scoffed.

"Excuse me?"

"You haven't smiled all night. Don't tell me this party was a success. You've been just as miserable as I."

Grace crossed her arms. "This isn't my party."

"You organized it."

"Nobody knows that."

"I'm sure at least some of them assume."

"Why are you so concerned with me all of a sudden?"

"As your employer, it's important to see that my staff is taken care of. It's good business sense. If you're happy, I'm happy."

As if it were possible, her frown sunk lower and she turned to walk away.

"So, it's me you're angry with, is it?"

She stopped walking but didn't turn around.

"At least tell me what I've done," he said.

She stood with her back facing him for a few moments longer before slowly turning around again. "Everything is always about business."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You never let yourself enjoy anything unless it's making you money."

"Yes…?"

"You don't find that concerning?"

"I didn't get to where I am today without this mentality."

"But you've let it influence your friendships."

"What are you talking about?"

Grace shook her head. "What you said the other day… Do you really think your staff is as loyal as we are because you pay us well?"

His brow furrowed, he questioned, "What did I say?"

"Just that. You said the people you cared about are here and that we are only here because of our paychecks."

"… Did I?"

She nodded.

"I didn't mean it how it must have sounded."

"How did you mean it then?"

He thought for a moment but conceded. "I don't know."

"How could you think that? Am I included in that assumption?"

Oliver let out a breath. "You above anyone have the most reason to only stick around for the money. You see the worst of me every day. I used to go through half a dozen secretaries a year before I hired you. I'm sure work has only been worse since the Depression."

"With your name on my resume, I can find work anywhere."

"For the same salary?" he asked.

"Not everyone is as concerned with money as you are. Some people take friendship into account."

This stunned him. "You think of me as a friend?"

"Yes," she answered quietly, "and until yesterday I thought you saw me as a friend, too. Not a commodity in which you invest."

"I don't think of you as a commodity. I do think of you as a friend. My best friend if you want the whole truth."

"If that's so, how can you think I'd leave the minute the money stops?"

"I never said that. Nothing I said was directed at you. I meant it in a general sense."

"But you said I have the most reason to leave if not for my pay."

"It's a natural observation. I'm saying that I know I'm difficult to be around. It shouldn't be any surprise to you that I don't have many friends. I've never been good at it. Not even as a kid."

"From where I stand, you don't even try. You wasted an opportunity tonight to get acquainted with people."

"Why does it matter? I've made no complaints about the way my life is. I'm not looking for friends. I meant it when I said that you and the rest of the staff are whom I consider my friends. Whether I think there might be a motive for friendship in return is irrelevant."

"It's not irrelevant, what you're saying is that you're okay with buying your friends. Friendships are two ways."

"Exactly," he said, growing irritated. "I have nothing to offer to a friendship. Therefore, I simply assume I have acquaintances at best. And don't take all of this personally. I do consider you a trusted friend for what it's worth."

"You offer plenty without realizing it," she said. "I consider you my best friend, too."

Though surprised, he shrugged it off. "Then that's settled. Don't we have guests to see off now?"

"I'm not letting this matter drop that easily," Grace said, following after him. "Why are you so afraid of letting yourself be close to someone?"

He kept walking. "I never said I was."

"You keep everything at arm's length."

"So what if I do?"

"That's no way to live."

"Why is this upsetting you so much?" he asked with a huff.

"Because I worry about you sometimes. You overwork yourself."

"I'm perfectly content, Grace." He walked faster.

"Don't you ever think about starting a family?" She blinked tightly, wondering what had brought the words out of her.

Oliver paused. "We've gone from having friends to a wife and children now?"

"Well… It's only natural to prepare for… you know, with your wealth I'd think you'd want an heir."

He started walking again, albeit a bit slower. "If you must know, the thought has crossed my mind, but not to the point where I've actually considered marrying."

Grace felt her stomach do a little flip. "Never?"

"I don't have the time or interest."

"Then what's the point of making more money than you will ever be able to spend in your lifetime? To live alone and isolated in your old age? To be eighty years old and full of regrets?"

Oliver looked at her through the side of his eye, relieved that they were coming into earshot of other people now. Putting on his party face, he began with his apologetic goodbyes. Once the crowd had gone, he'd expected Grace to still be standing behind him, perhaps with her arms crossed and face scrunched. When he turned, she was gone.

. . .

Oliver wasn't sure why he was surprised that she didn't come to the office that night. Normally he would be happy to let the matter be left unspoken for a few days until it ultimately fizzled out, but something felt different about this discussion… argument? He wasn't sure. He only knew that it wasn't sitting right and feared he'd somehow hurt her feelings. He never meant to imply she was no less to him than a disposable employee, and while he could see the fault in his wording, he couldn't figure out why she'd taken everything so personally.

He felt strange knocking on her bedroom door. He wasn't sure he'd so much as been down this hallway since she'd come to work for him. He felt as though he was intruding despite it being his own home.

"Come in," he heard her say on the other side of the door.

He opened the door, hesitating a step inside. "Can we talk?" he asked, his voice a tad unsteady.

Looking up from a book, Grace said with a quick intake of air, fastening her robe more securely, "I thought you were Drake."

"I can leave," Oliver said, taking a step back.

"No," she said, though sounded uncertain. "No… it's okay. Is something the matter?"

"I don't know," he said, not moving from the doorway. "I thought you might be angry with me."

Letting out a breath, she said, "Let's do both ourselves the favor of dropping the matter, sir."

"But that's just it. I don't know what the matter is. I apologize if I hurt your feelings with whatever I said about paychecks and what have you. I never meant for you to feel as though I don't value your work and your company."

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"What I don't understand is how we went from that to me dying alone in a room with bags of money?"

Grace rolled her eyes. "I never said that."

"But it's what you meant."

She set her book aside as she stood. "As I said, let's just let the matter drop."

"Believe me, I want to."

"But what?" she asked, feeling as if there was more he wanted to say.

"I don't know," he mumbled. "I guess I never thought too much of it. I know they say you can't take it with you, but I still somewhat assumed I would. That, or I've convinced myself I'll go on indefinitely."

"I hate to tell you—"

"I know that I can't," he said. "But I'm not in a place where I can think about that eventuality. There's too much to be done here and now."

"I understand."

"I suppose what I fear most is that you're thinking less of me. Despite what you might think, I do care about your opinion of me. I trust you implicitly."

Standing near him now, she touched his arm. "I appreciate your saying that."

"But you do think less of me."

Grace sighed. "I don't think less of you. I don't know what I think. I overreacted and this has all spiraled from there. I guess I'm projecting some of my own fears onto you. Christmas seems to be a time when I overthink my life. At least the last few years."

"Oh?"

"Never mind," she said.

"Aren't you the one telling me I shouldn't keep people at arm's length?" He stuck out his arm and gestured between them. "This is my attempt to be your definition of a friend."

She wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry. She met the emotions somewhere in the middle, letting out an odd mix of a sniff and chuckle. "I suppose I did bring this on myself."

"Evidently, I'm the last person to be offering advice, but if you need an ear…?"

Grace smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Warbucks. I'll be okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Missing my family. Wishing I had one of my own. Those things and such."

"I see… Well, you know that your family is always welcome here. I'm not much of a host, but you're well aware of that already."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but really, I don't have any family left. Maybe a long-lost cousin somewhere but that would be it."

"That's… probably something I should have known. I'm sorry."

"It's all right. I don't know if I've ever mentioned it."

"Here I've called you my best friend and I'm realizing how little I know about you."

"It's all right. There is still the fact that you're my employer."

"That may be so, but I promise I will try and do better at this whole 'friendship' thing. I don't particularly want to be a miserably lonely old man. I hope when that time comes I won't have scared you off some much that you won't stop by and visit."

"I'll be sure to find the time."

"Who knows? Maybe if I get enough practice with you, I'll make a friend outside the house someday." He winked.

"One step at a time, sir," she smirked.

End.