Author's Note: Even though this story takes place after the conclusion of the movie, I couldn't resist adding a little flashback chapter here to offer my own take on the scene we all wish had been included in the film: the moment, presumably between Annie's rescue and the adoption party, when Oliver and Grace finally acknowledge how they feel about each other! Enjoy!

CHAPTER FOUR

Everyone in the mansion had been taken completely aback by the last hour's turn of events.

Several hours after the last straggling fraudsters had left the mansion, a short woman with mousy brown hair and her heavily mustached husband had appeared at the front door, quietly insistent that they were Annie's true parents. Grace had almost refused to let them in before she caught sight of the questionnaire they had filled out. It had only taken her a moment to skim the paper and realize to her horror that some of the details of their story—the name of Annie's orphanage, the fact that she had been left there wrapped in a newspaper, and her birthday—were actually correct.

She hadn't been quite sure what to do when Annie and Oliver had walked into the reception room hand in hand, but there had been no need for her to say anything. The woman had gasped, run to Annie, and fallen to her knees to embrace the orphan girl. The top of Annie's locket, which the redhead had longed to see for her entire life, had suddenly been drawn from the woman's pocket and clicked into place, meeting its other half for the first time in ten years. The woman, "Shirley", called Annie her baby, "Ralph" smiled down at them with an emotional glint in his eye, and Grace felt her heart begin to break.

But she's ours! she had wanted to cry out. She can't possibly be yours!

While a shellshocked Oliver, his face blank but hard, scrawled his name on the certified check and handed it to the man, Grace had escaped the reception room and rushed up to Annie's room. She was sitting on the floor staring at the open suitcase in front of her with a slight frown on her face. She had opened a few dresser drawers, but nothing was taken out. With Grace's help, the closet was slowly emptied. Annie's sole outfit from the orphanage was pressed lightly into her suitcase on top of her movie program from Radio City Music Hall.

Annie had asked if Grace and Oliver would visit her in New Jersey. "A small town won't be so bad, right? And it's not that far from here, right? You'll take the ferry and visit me, right?"

Grace had assured her they would visit her. All the while, her heart ached.

She had barely been able to watch as Oliver bid Annie farewell in the entrance hall after she and Grace had come down the staircase with her single suitcase in tow. The expression of pain on his face had very nearly broken her. His lips pursed, trying to find the right words to say as he wished her well, the sweet child who had very nearly been his baby girl. He hugged her, and she hugged him back tightly. There was a spluttering noise from somewhere to the left of the marble staircase, and Grace realized with a shock that even Drake was blinking furiously to keep tears out of his eyes. Punjab and the Asp watched silently from the doorway, wearing identical grim expressions.

Out front, the rasping churn of gears reached their ears as the Mudges pulled their car up. Oliver released Annie, she turned to hug Mrs. Pugh, and Grace's face fell as Oliver turned and retreated up the staircase alone.

Grace barely managed to keep it together when she and a handful of the staff followed Annie out of the front doors as her parents loaded her suitcase and Sandy into the back of the pickup truck. She had given Annie a hug and kiss and encouraged her to be brave and good for her parents, while silently calling on every bit of willpower she possessed to stop the tears in her eyes from spilling down her cheeks. This was supposed to be one of the happiest moments of Annie's life, wasn't it? She had finally found the parents she had dreamed about for her entire life. Grace wouldn't let herself ruin the occasion by losing her composure entirely. She caught a glimpse of Oliver standing on the office balcony, watching Annie's final parting silently from afar.

This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't be.

But it was. The truck was pulling away. Annie was waving out the window one last time. And then she was gone.

Grace wasn't quite aware of how she made her way from the entryway into the parlor, which was mercifully empty, and felt herself sink slowly onto the couch. Her heart was pounding painfully in her chest, and the headache she had been fighting all day came roaring back as the hot tears she was now unable to stop trickled down one after another. She hid her face in her hands, finally allowing a sob to escape from the depths of her soul.

Annie. She was gone. Never to return.

It felt impossible, a nightmare that couldn't possibly have come true. Surely Grace would wake at any moment, alone in her suite, and breathe a deep sigh of relief that she had dreamt the whole horrible day. Annie would come bounding down the stairs to breakfast, her eyes alight with excitement about the adventures the day would bring. She would help Grace file the morning's correspondence, take a karate lesson with the Asp, run laps with Sandy around the garden, and beg to accompany Oliver downtown to a meeting with a bank president.

But none of it was to be.

A stab of pain shot through Grace's heart. She knew now with startling clarity that meeting Annie had changed her life irreversibly, and in more ways than one.

As a child, Grace—like many girls all over the world—had assumed that one day she would meet a man, fall in love, marry, and have children of her own. She had always loved children: she had several nieces and nephews, and they meant the world to her. She had watched them grow from babies to young children, had cared for them and fed them and held them as they cried, and she loved them dearly. But of course, there was never any question as to who their parents were. She was a beloved aunt, and she certainly relished the role. But as much as she loved them, they were not hers.

But then she had met Annie. Annie, who had nothing in the world, no parents or family of any kind, and no one to love her. From the first time she had smiled at Grace from the closet in Miss Hannigan's office, the girl had held her heart completely. It was impossible not to adore her smile, her warm cheer, and her determination to see the good in everyone she met. And Grace had come to love her as fiercely as if she had raised her from infancy.

But she had lost Annie. And losing her had cracked open a space in Grace's heart that was rapidly filling with fear: fear that she was running out of time.

She had turned thirty the month before Annie's arrival at the house. As much as she enjoyed her career—and she did, truly, even on the difficult days—she couldn't quell the fast-growing panic that she was perilously close to missing her chance for a life beyond it. Many of her classmates from secretarial school had gotten married by this point, and most already had children. She could only think of a few childhood schoolfriends who hadn't yet married.

And her? She was married to her job, a job that kept her busy all hours of the day and night. A job that, for as much as it was intellectually and financially rewarding, left her emotionally drained and, night after night, alone.

She knew Oliver must be feeling the same despair she was, and the very thought of him brought another sear of pain. He had opened his heart to Annie, extended his hands and offered her the world, only to be rejected and left alone in his study with nothing but the ticker tape machine to keep him company. She couldn't help her thoughts spiraling as she imagined herself going to him and embracing him and telling him that, even if he had lost Annie, he still had her.

But what if he turned a cold stare toward her, called her "Miss Farrell", ordered her back to her dictation, and handed her a pile of investment reports to file away?

Her broken heart would shatter entirely.

How in the world was she supposed to go back to the way life had been before? To pretending she felt nothing for him, to avoiding any physical contact with him knowing that his slightest touch on her hand or shoulder would send a ripple of pleasure through her body? To mentally berating herself and shutting down her thoughts whenever her mind slipped into a daydream of him? How was she supposed to go back to just being "Miss Farrell", the ever-dutiful and perfectly proper secretary? She had been in love with him for so long, completely against her better judgment, and as someone who generally prided herself on being practical and clear-eyed she was now hating herself for her weakness. How could she be so foolish as to be constantly imagining, hoping, praying that one day something would change? That he wouldn't look at her as just a secretary, that something would open his eyes and make him see her in a new light?

Annie had almost done that.

In the two weeks since her arrival at the mansion, things had changed between them, there was no denying it. Where there was once respectful but professional distance, he had been friendlier, kinder, and more open with her. Annie's natural warmth, her spunk, and her stubborn optimism in spite of all she had endured in her young life had slowly endeared her to Oliver, and for the first time for as long as Grace had known him he had allowed himself to imagine the possibility of a life shared with a family. And Grace, in turn, had allowed herself to hope that she might be part of that shift. In the garden the morning he had agreed to adopt Annie, he had called her pretty! He had touched her arm and held her hands in his and stared deeply into her eyes, almost completely derailing her ability to focus on the question she had planned to ask him.

Would he revert back to the way he had been before? Would he retreat back behind the walls he had always built around himself now that Annie was gone? Was that morning in the garden the closest she would ever feel to him?

The gentle touch of an arm across her shoulders and the dip of the cushion as someone sat down almost caused her to jump out of her skin. She had been so absorbed in her misery that she hadn't heard anyone's footsteps enter the room. Before her eyes had processed who was next to her, her heart had leapt. Was it him?

No, it was Punjab. She was sure her face had fallen noticeably, but she couldn't muster the energy to think of an excuse to cover up her disappointment.

The tall man was silent, his arm around her shoulder comfortingly and an expression of deep concern on his face. He handed her a silk handkerchief, which she accepted silently. Tears were still falling from her eyes, and she sniffled as she wiped them away and rested her head on his shoulder. Undoubtedly she looked a complete mess.

"Nothing can harm you as much as your own thoughts unguarded," he intoned softly. "You are missing the princess. And …" His eyebrows went up. "you fear for the changes the princess brought to this house."

She was quiet, not looking at him as a fresh wave of silent tears slid down her cheeks. Was she really that transparent?

But of course. Of course Punjab knew. Little escaped him. He would have immediately noticed the change in her appearance and wondered why she was leaving her hair down all of a sudden instead of pinned up primly and properly as she had every day for the last five years. He would have noticed the first time the name "Oliver" fell from her lips, the first time he called her "Grace" instead of "Miss Farrell." He would have seen how she watched Oliver when he was with Annie, letting down her guard and no longer bothering to hide the smile on her mouth and the tenderness in her gaze.

"I feel like such a fool, Punjab," she choked out. "I really hoped that he … that he might …" But she couldn't go on.

He was silent for a long minute, just holding her, before he spoke. "There is a mountain that looks down over my father's village in India."

Grace couldn't help the twinge of annoyance she felt. He was so intuitive, had immediately sensed that Annie's departure was only part of the reason for her despair. Couldn't he recognize that she wasn't in the mood to listen to a parable?

"In the winter months, it is covered with snow and ice. Cold and foreboding, it stands impassable to any who dare attempt to conquer it. But …" His voice grew softer. "when the spring comes, the sun begins to warm the face of that cold mountain. The ice begins to thaw, very slowly at first. It takes time. It doesn't happen right away. But little by little the ice does melt away, and where once there was only bitter cold instead there is warmth. Where once there was only ice and snow, instead there is green all around. And it is a magnificent sight." His hand gripped her shoulder gently but firmly, and he raised his other hand to her chin and forced her gray eyes up to meet his deep brown. "You cannot give up on him. Not yet."

"I don't want to," she whispered. "But I can't wait forever for something that may never happen."

"Not forever," he said quietly. "Tonight, you must remember that he is in pain. But with some time, I think you will see a change. The ice has begun to thaw."

The pair sat there quietly for some time, each absorbed in their own thoughts. The mansion was still around them. The staff had disappeared off into the night, and none of the usual whir of evening activity was emanating from the second floor offices.

And then Punjab suddenly lifted his head and tilted an ear toward the parlor door. He stood up so quickly that Grace started, and her eyes followed him in surprise as he strode across the room and disappeared into the entrance hall. For a long moment she heard nothing, and then she furrowed her brow. What was that commotion? It almost sounded like—little girls?

The next few hours raced by in a heart-pounding blur, and in the months and years to come the details of what exactly transpired, when, and in what order were never to be recalled in exactly the same way by Annie, Grace, or Oliver.

But Grace knew some memories of that night would forever be seared in her memory, never to be forgotten and returning to her in quiet moments as poignant reminders of what had almost been lost. She would never forget the jolt of terror she felt when the youngest orphan, faint in Punjab's arms, proclaimed that Annie's supposed parents had in fact been "bad people." Nor could she forget Oliver's shout of "LEAPING LIZARDS!" as his eyes met hers and she saw her own alarm reflected in his face. Nor the long, confused minutes as she and Oliver sped the car off into the dark night, completely clueless as to where they should be driving but so anxious and panic-stricken that sitting around and waiting for news was not an option. A short-lived burst of relief when Punjab and the Asp spotted the escaping truck from up in the air. The sounds of sirens, red flashing lights.

Above all else, it was the sight of Annie, her small frame dangling from the edge of the bridge high above the rushing dark water, that Grace knew neither she nor Oliver would ever forget. Everything else faded away to black in those painful, drawn, slow moments. An eternity passed, perhaps two or three, before the breath rushed out of her lungs as she saw the child wrapped in Punjab's arms on her way back to solid ground.

And then time sped up again, and things were happening too quickly to process.

The hot night air rushed and swirled around them as the autocopter deposited Annie and Punjab on the ground. She was hugging Oliver and Annie, and she and the girl were crying openly as tears shone in Oliver's own eyes. Punjab, his arms shaking with exhaustion, had taken charge of the situation—bless him—and corralled several policemen into a protective circle around them as flashbulbs went off and a handful of journalists who had tailed the police sirens pressed in on them to steal a photograph. Oliver, still carrying Annie in his arms, had grabbed her hand to wend their way back to the car as the police cleared a path for them. Annie was whimpering in shock and grief as they climbed into the Duesenberg, desperate to get away from that awful place as quickly as possible. And she had realized, as they sped back to the mansion with Punjab at the wheel and a police escort ahead of them, that Oliver's hand was still gripping hers, so tightly that her fingers hurt. But she didn't shift an inch.

Back at the mansion, she remembered the pale, mournful look on Annie's face and the concern in Oliver's eyes when the police commissioner told them that they had arrested the imposters as well as Miss Hannigan, who had confessed everything. Annie's supposed "parents" were in reality Miss Hannigan's brother and his girlfriend, Annie's real parents had died years ago, and Miss Hannigan had been in possession of Annie's locket all along.

"I figured they were dead," Annie whispered, nestled between Oliver and Grace on the couch in the library. "It just didn't feel right, ya know? There was somethin' about 'em that felt funny. I always thought … once I found my mom and dad, I'd just know it was them." She wiped a few tears out of her eyes. "D'you think if they were alive, they'd have come for me sooner? Not just when ya offered the reward, Daddy?"

"I'm sure they would have," Oliver assured her. "In fact, I know they–" He choked abruptly, his eyes widening. "What did you say, Annie?"

She bit her lip, suddenly shy as her cheeks flushed to match her hair. "Well, I –" She looked down in shame. "I'd understand if ya didn't want me anymore, after everything that's happened. But … if ya still do, I'd …" She looked up at him, and her lip trembled as tears shone in her large blue eyes. "I'd really like for you to be my Daddy Warbucks."

Grace had never seen the man in front of her, a pillar of the global economy who felt quite at ease in the presence of kings and presidents, rendered completely speechless.

"I'd like that very much too, Annie," he said eventually in a strangled voice.

And just like that, a spark of hope was rekindled.

It was well past midnight by that point, and the police were summarily dismissed from the mansion as soon as they had taken Annie's official statement. Oliver was quite insistent that the orphans from Hudson Street, who had been bathed and fed and put to bed by the household staff as soon as they had been assured of Annie's safety, were not to be woken up to give their testimony until the morning. Annie was fading, the shock of the evening's events giving way rapidly to exhaustion. As Grace and Oliver tucked her into her bed, she gave them a bleary smile, gripping their hands tightly in hers before her eyes slowly drifted closed.

The two of them sat there holding her hands, practically unmoving and lost in their own thoughts, for a long time after Annie's breathing had deepened into a calm sleep. Sandy, also clearly relieved that the end of this long and horrible day had finally come, was sprawled across the bed and snoring lightly as his tail occasionally wagged in his sleep.

Grace started, shaken out of her daze, when she felt the bed shift as Oliver stood up. But instead of moving toward the door, he quietly crossed the room and unlocked the glass door that led to the small balcony off Annie's room. He turned and offered a hand to her. She rose shakily and, taking his hand in her own, followed him outside.

Annie's room looked over the back gardens, and the lights of Manhattan glittered as they reflected in the water of the fountain below. The air had finally cooled, and the night was quiet as the sounds of police sirens faded away into the distance.

"Are you all right?" she asked quietly, looking at him in concern.

"I am now," he said softly. "But good heavens, what a day this has been."

"I know," Grace whispered. "I wouldn't be surprised if she woke up with nightmares. Maybe I should stay here with her tonight."

"You need to rest too," he said firmly. "It may take some time before the shock of it all wears off, especially learning the truth about her parents. But she's resilient." He was silent for a long moment, studying her closely. "And are you all right?"

Grace felt the rising wave of emotion only a second before it crashed over her. "I …" But she couldn't go on. And then she was sobbing, the stress and misery of the last few hours finally overwhelming her completely. She felt Oliver's arms immediately encompass her as he drew her close with a whisper of her name.

"I can't believe … we almost lost her," she managed to choke out in between sobs as she clung to him. "The thought of … if those girls hadn't escaped the orphanage … what might have happened …"

"It's too awful to think of," he whispered gruffly, and she could hear the carefully contained emotion in his voice threatening to spill out too. "But she's safe. She's home, with us. And she's not going anywhere." His arms tightened around her, and his voice caught. "And I promise you that I'll do everything in my power to protect her, keep her safe, and show her the love she deserves."

"I know you will," she whispered, sniffling and drawing back slightly to meet his gaze.

In spite of how overwhelmed and exhausted she felt, she couldn't help but savor the moment. To stand wrapped in each other's arms and drawing comfort from one another, for two people who were usually so consumed with work that any kind of personal connection between them had never been able to rise to the surface … it should have felt awkward, should have spurred the logical part of her mind to protest madly, should have made both of them step back with a cough and downcast gaze back into their proper roles.

But instead it felt right. As if, after everything they had endured that night, they deserved this.

She shivered slightly as he wiped a tear away from her cheek. "Grace." His voice shook. "I … I truly cannot thank you enough."

She raised an eyebrow, feeling a smile tug at the corner of her lips. "For what?"

"Everything," he said seriously. "I might have completely lost my head tonight without you by my side. The way you always are. I …" Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if his face was flushing red, or if it was just the city lights reflecting off the fountain playing tricks on her eyes. "Well, I'm very grateful to have you in my life, tonight more so than ever."

"You're welcome," she whispered. He was definitely flushing redder now, she was sure of it. Good gracious, when was the last time she had seen Oliver Warbucks blush? Had she ever?

"And … well, you know, er …" He looked supremely uncomfortable now. But he didn't draw away, and after a moment's hesitation his gaze locked onto hers and held it fast. "What I told you in the garden the other morning … that I only love money and power and capitalism … well, it, er, it isn't exactly true."

She smiled. "I know, Oliver. It's been wonderful to see how much you've come to care for Annie."

His next words took the breath completely out of her. "I'm not just talking about Annie, Grace."

His deep brown eyes were staring into hers with an intensity she had never seen in them before. She felt her heart pounding painfully in her chest. And then, before she could even begin to make sense of what he had said, he kissed her.

If Grace Farrell had spent hours wondering what it would be like to kiss Oliver Warbucks—and, over the course of the years, she most certainly had—she couldn't have imagined anything more perfect.

His lips were surprisingly soft, and when they first met hers she was so shocked that for a moment all she could do was breathe in his scent, the dizzying combination of fine brandy and cologne that she would know anywhere. She felt herself slowly, hesitantly, kiss him back, savoring the taste of him against her mouth for the first time. And suddenly, the wall of self-control they had both been struggling to maintain all evening—no, all week, ever since that morning in the garden—crumbled to pieces. His grip on her tightened, and she felt him thread his fingers through her hair, sliding his other hand down her back to pull her body closer against his. She leaned into him, winding her arms around him and gasping as his mouth captured hers again in a deep kiss.

It was several long minutes later before they drew apart only ever so slightly, both breathless and shaking on their feet.

"May I, er, infer that you feel the same way?" he asked unsteadily, his lips upturned in a nervous smile as he caressed her cheeks.

Barely trusting her voice to speak, she could only nod and whisper, "I have for a long time."

His smile broadened. "In that case …" He dropped kisses on her forehead and temple before brushing his lips softly against hers again. "I hope tonight can serve as a wonderful new beginning, for all of us."

She smiled radiantly. Punjab had been right: the ice had begun to thaw.

"I would love that," she breathed.

As she brought her lips up to his once more, it occurred to her quietly in the back of her mind, a thought barely consciously formed, how absolutely marvelous life could be when you least expected it.