CHAPTER TWO

"Molly?" Annie asked. The two of them were sitting out on the arched entryway's marble steps in the sun, the older girl's arm around the shoulders of the younger. She had held off on questioning Molly about her long face and tears while Tessie's new folks were in the mansion, not wanting to put a damper on Tessie's departure, but Molly's glum mood was starting to worry her. "Why are you so sad? Tessie seemed happy to go with the Wilburs. I thought she'd be bawlin' her eyes out, but she was really brave. So what's wrong?"

"N-nothin'," Molly sniffled.

"You know you can't fool me, Molly," Annie said seriously. "I've known you since you were in diapers. So come on, lay it on me. What are your troubles?"

Molly was silent for a few moments. "Is …" She seemed on the verge of completing her thought before she fell silent again and wiped a single tear away. "Is your daddy gonna find me a family like he did for Tessie? And for Kate and July and Pepper and Duffy?"

"I'm sure he will!" Annie said fervently. "Oh, Molly, is that the problem? You're the last one left here, but dontcha worry! Daddy and Grace have been working real hard on finding families for all the girls from our room at the orphanage, and I'm sure they're just savin' the very best family for you."

"But I don't want the very best family!" Molly suddenly wailed, a sob escaping her lips as she buried her face in her knees.

Annie stared at her in confusion. "What d'you mean?"

"I-I-I don't wanna leave you, Annie!" The small girl threw herself at Annie, almost sending her friend reeling backward onto the hard marble floor. "You-You're the only one who ever took care of me! I wasn't real sad to see Pepper go but then Kate and Duffy and July left, and now Tessie …"

Her words jumbled together in her anguish until Annie could barely make them out. She hugged Molly tightly. Boy, had she really misjudged why Molly was so upset.

"Oh, Molly, I didn't know you were feeling so blue about this all," she said softly. "It's just that we've been dreamin' of having a family for our whole lives. It's what we used to sing about in the orphanage all the time, and make up stories about, and imagine when we were sad. I never dreamed ya'd be upset about it."

"I-I know," Molly sniffled. "And I-I-I do want a family, honest I do. B-b-but I'd miss you so much!"

"And I'd miss you so much, Molls," Annie said honestly, frowning. "I'd miss ya more than any of the other girls! But you'd come visit all the time, and I'd go visit you! And you'd have a mommy and daddy to tuck you in bed at night, read you stories, and kiss you goodnight. Doesn't that sound real swell?"

After a long moment, Molly nodded, still sniffling.

"And," Annie continued gently, "maybe your mom'll play the piano like Grace does in the evenings, and she'll take ya to see the lions at the zoo, and ya can still come visit us here for dinner when Mrs. Pugh makes macaroni and cheese."

"Only if she leaves out the tomatoes," Molly said.

Annie smiled at her. "It's okay to be scared, Molly. I was scared comin' here too, and even Pepper was scared when she met her new folks, I could tell! She tried to talk all brave and grown-up, but her hands were shakin' like one of those maraca dancers! I know it's all gonna work out just fine for you."

"Girls?" Grace's voice floated toward them out of the open front doors. "Are you still out there?"

"We're here," Annie called back, squeezing Molly's shoulders again.

Grace sat down on the marble stairs next to Annie, in an instant taking in the fresh tears in Molly's eyes and the concerned expression on Annie's face. With a sigh, she took Annie and Molly's clasped hands in her own.

"I know this has been a difficult afternoon," she said finally. "It's certainly all right to be sad that Tessie isn't staying here with us anymore. That's a natural thing to feel when a dear friend moves on to a new chapter of her life."

Annie and Molly nodded silently.

"I know what might cheer us all up," Grace said with a knowing look at both of them. "How about we ask Mrs. Pugh to pack us up a few snacks and we can go for a walk in the park? Annie, you could bring your badminton racquets."

Annie brightened immediately. "Oh, that'd be swell! But Daddy just left with the Asp. Will he be gone long? Can he come too?"

"I'm not sure when he'll return, so we should probably plan to go without him," Grace said apologetically. "Hopefully we'll see him in time for dinner."

As Annie and Molly stood to go back inside, Grace couldn't help but frown slightly. Where had Oliver run off to, with an almost deceptively vague air about him as to where he was going?

Oliver stared with unfocused eyes out the window of the town car as the Asp sped north out of the city, barely noticing as the low-slung buildings of northern Manhattan and the Bronx melted into the green woods of southern Connecticut. Long stretches of trees and forest were sprinkled with small towns, their church spires gleaming and vibrant in the late afternoon sun.

He had been dreading this appointment all day and feared that Grace, who was frustratingly proficient at guessing his every mood, must have picked up on his apprehension. For so many years, he had grown accustomed to men coming to him asking for anything and everything under the sun: businessmen seeking funding for a new venture, presidents yearning for his political backing, world leaders desperate to purchase steel or fighter jets or battleships from one of his many companies. Rarely did he find himself in the position of asking another person for anything, let alone something of infinitely greater value than any of that.

The Asp looked in the rearview mirror at his employer, whose brow was furrowed in deep thought. "Is there any doubt he'll say yes?"

Oliver glanced at the back of his bodyguard's head and chuckled. "Dear Lord, I hope not." He raised an eyebrow. "I take it you've managed to guess the purpose of today's errand."

"Punjab and I have been wondering when one of us would be tasked with this drive," the Asp said knowingly. "I'm thrilled to have the honor."

Oliver smirked, the Asp's calm assurance putting him slightly more at ease in spite of himself. "Well, hopefully your confidence isn't misplaced."

After what felt like an age, he could tell they were nearing their destination. The tall trees on the righthand side of the road opened up and dropped off as the ocean came into glorious view. Sunlight reflected blindingly off the blue waters, and families of beachgoers enjoying the sand and sun dotted the numerous small inlets and beaches that hugged the coastline. Oliver felt his palms begin to sweat as they passed a prim wooden sign on the outskirts of the next town welcoming visitors to Greenwich, Connecticut. Good heavens, how could he possibly be this nervous? He suddenly felt very much like a schoolboy going in to see the headmaster.

The Asp turned the town car onto the main street of the town, and they passed a small movie theater, schoolhouse, several churches, and the town green where families were picnicking and a group of young boys were throwing a ball for a dog. One more turn, and they had arrived.

The Asp turned the key and the car fell silent. "I can leave it idling, if you prefer. For a quick getaway."

Oliver silently willed his hands to stop shaking as he opened the door himself. "That won't be necessary, but I appreciate that you always plan for every possible scenario."

He looked at the modest storefront in front of them: a two-story red brick building with the words "FARRELL & SON PHARMACY" carved in large letters on a wooden sign above the door. Taking a deep breath and reminding himself that he had triumphed in innumerable tough negotiations in the past—a reminder that helped quell the churning in his stomach not one bit—he walked through the door.

A bell jingled somewhere above his head. It was nearing the end of the workday, but the shop still had a few customers. One young woman was examining a display of combs and hairbrushes to his right, and to his left at the register an elderly man was tapping his shoe and mumbling something. At first Oliver thought he was talking to himself, until he heard a familiar voice respond from beneath the counter where someone was digging through boxes of wares.

"… could have sworn we received it yesterday, Mr. Clark … let me just check—ah, here it is!" The man popped up from behind the counter and passed the elderly man a small paper bag. "Sorry about that. My wife stocked yesterday's shipment and I still haven't managed to figure out her organizational system. You'd think that would get easier after eleven years of marriage."

The man's dark eyes spotted Oliver, who stood waiting behind the elderly customer. They widened immediately.

"Mr. Warbucks!" He glanced back at the older man, distractedly accepting the small handful of change he handed over on his way out. "Ah, thank you, Mr. Clark. See you next week." He looked back at Oliver. "Mr. Warbucks, what are you doing here?" Alarm flashed across his face. "Is everything all right? Is Grace—?"

"Oh, she's fine!" Oliver said quickly. "There's nothing wrong at all. And please, Walter, I insist—call me Oliver." He cleared his throat, as much to settle his stomach as to calm his voice. "Actually, I called yesterday. I'm here to see your father."

He saw understanding dawn in Walter Farrell's eyes almost immediately, and he groaned internally. Were his intentions that obvious? Admittedly, he had never visited the Farrells' storefront before, and to do so alone without Grace was sure to arouse speculation. That was why he had been selfishly hoping that Grace's father rather than her brother—who clearly had no idea he was coming—would be running the pharmacy counter that afternoon.

"You are," Walter said. It was not so much a question as a statement of fact. "Interesting." There was a slight smirk playing at the edges of his lips. "I'll let him know you're here."

He stepped away through a door behind the counter and reappeared a minute later, a determinedly neutral expression on his face.

"You can come back."

"Thank you." Oliver followed him around the counter and through a short, cramped hallway lined with shipping crates. In the pharmacy's back office, Douglas Farrell was waiting for him, standing to receive him behind a worn wooden desk covered with shop ledgers and inventory forms.

"Hello, Oliver," the older man said, extending a hand that Oliver grasped firmly. "Nice to see you again."

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Farrell," Oliver said.

Grace's father chuckled. "Please, Oliver. If I can be on first name terms with a man as renowned as yourself, I'll have to insist that you call me Douglas." He cast a look at his son, who was lingering in the doorway and watching the two men in front of him with an openly curious stare. "Walter, you can close the door behind you."

Walter raised his eyebrows and then nodded silently at his father, drawing the door closed as he stepped back over the threshold. Oliver heard his footsteps retreat down the hall only after a long pause, as if he had been debating listening at the door before deciding better of it.

"Please, sit," Douglas said, motioning to a wooden chair in the corner of the office. He eased himself back into his own seat behind his desk, drawing his hands together and casting an appraising look at the man in front of him. "I'm sure these quarters are less comfortable than those you're accustomed to greeting guests in."

"On the contrary," Oliver said, studying the older man. His hair was turning white and there were deep lines etched into his face, but his gray eyes—so similar to his daughter's—still held the kind twinkle he had noticed in them on several occasions before. He had only met Douglas Farrell a handful of times before, but he had liked him from the start. "I've never had the opportunity to visit the shop before and I'm glad to see it in person. Grace speaks very highly of how hard you and Walter have worked to keep the place up and running in the last few years."

Douglas sighed. "And it hasn't been easy. Many of our customers are running lines of credit out the door and can't pay for half the medicines they need. But what can we do, refuse them our services? They need us, so we don't have a choice." He fixed Oliver with a knowing look. "But, as much as we might both enjoy an exchange of ideas about running a business, I'm sure that's not what you came here to talk about."

Oliver took a deep breath and exhaled sharply, leaning forward in his seat. "Douglas," he began, "I'm sure you've guessed what I came here to talk about."

"I have an idea," the older man murmured, his face betraying nothing. "But please, go on."

He cleared his throat. The moment had come. "As you know, Douglas, your daughter has been working for me for the past five years." This seemed a safe place to start. "During the entire time I have known her, I have never had anything but the utmost respect for her intellect, her dedication, and her integrity. Grace has truly been invaluable to me and my businesses since the day she came into my life." He cleared his throat again, knowing with slight discomfort what else he needed to convey. "And I assure you—I think you know this already, but it bears repeating—I assure you that never, ever, have I done or attempted anything that would, er …" He cleared his throat again and tugged at the collar of his shirt, which felt suffocatingly tight. "… well, call into question her upstanding moral character."

He paused. How to convey the rest? He had mentally rehearsed a dozen speeches in the car ride from the city, but somehow none of them had stuck in his memory. And somehow, everything he had practiced felt insufficient to convey what he truly wanted to say. Douglas said nothing, taking in his words mutely.

"But … well, I think you also know … that only recently have I truly begun to appreciate her good heart." He smiled slightly as a vision of Grace, her smile and her warm laugh, danced across his mind's eye. "Grace is, without exception, the most kindhearted woman I have had the good fortune of knowing. I have come to love her very deeply." He paused, feeling the gravity of his own words sink in. "And I owe her a great debt for everything she has done for me. She brought my daughter, Annie, into my life. She helped me realize how much I was missing by focusing so narrowly on my work at the expense of everything else that makes life worth living." He looked directly into Douglas's eyes. "I'd be very grateful, Douglas, to have your blessing to marry her. I assure you that she will be very well taken care of and will never want for anything."

Douglas was quiet. Although Oliver was not usually one to be intimidated by silence as a bargaining tactic, he felt his heart thud painfully in his chest as he waited for the older man to speak.

"Oliver," he began finally, looking down at his clasped hands instead of at the man in front of him, "first of all, I want to assure you that I have no concerns about your intentions with my daughter." He looked up and their eyes met. "Well, at least, now I don't. I will admit I did worry the first time Grace told me about your, er, relationship. But she was quite insistent that you've never taken advantage of your position compared with hers in any way."

"Good Lord, no!" Oliver exclaimed, his eyes wide.

"And," Douglas went on, "from what she tells me, she cares a great deal for you. She has for some time." He paused, mulling his next words. "I just need to be clear, Oliver," he said seriously, "that I'm not looking for Grace to marry a wealthy man. She can take care of herself. And frankly, the fact that you can provide for her every material need matters a hell of a lot less to me than her finding a man who will respect her, love her, and treat her the way she deserves to be treated." His voice caught slightly. "She's my daughter, and I want what's best for her."

"And I assure you," Oliver croaked, feeling his own emotion starting to get the better of him, "that I will do all that and more. My foremost goal, above all else, is ensuring her happiness."

Douglas studied him for a moment that felt eternally long before speaking. "In that case, you may certainly ask for her hand in marriage. And you may do so knowing that, if she accepts, it will be with my blessing."

Oliver felt the pressure that had been building unbearably in his chest burst, dissolving into a wave of cool relief. Before he could say anything, Douglas had stood up and, with a smile on his lips, offered a hand. Oliver shook it gratefully as he stood as well, feeling suddenly elated.

"Thank you," he said honestly. "Thank you, truly."

"Don't thank me yet," Douglas said with a chuckle. "You've still got to ask her. And that isn't an easy thing to do."

"You're right about that," Oliver acknowledged. He felt his stomach give an uncomfortable lurch at the thought. Good Lord, now there were no more obstacles in his way—except his own nerves! The only step remaining was figuring out how, and when, to ask Grace the question that had been keeping him up at night for weeks. "And it goes without saying, but I'd appreciate your discretion until she and I have, er, confirmed everything."

"She won't hear of this conversation from me," Douglas said, opening the office door and beckoning Oliver out into the hall. "And I'll make sure the same goes for Walter, although I bet he figured you out the minute you walked in the shop. I can't guarantee he hasn't already called my daughter-in-law Rebecca. She and Grace are close." He grinned. "Hopefully you'll beat the rumors home."

Oliver Warbucks walked out of the shop feeling ten times lighter than when he had walked in. The Asp's dark eyes stared into his as he held the door of the town car open for his employer.

"Well?" he asked, his voice a degree higher than normal in anticipation. "How did it go?"

"I think Grace deserves to be the first to know, don't you?" he said, knowing full well that the smile on his lips and evident relief in his voice would give him away immediately to the perceptive Asp. "And I'll thank you to avoid mentioning this trip to her. If she asks, I went to see Simon Whitehead."

He could see the wide grin on the Asp's face as his bodyguard settled into the driver's seat and put the car in motion.