#gracefarrell

Drawn by my amazing thirteen-year-old nephew. 🥰

jonathan bower’s gayest hits 🏳️‍🌈

+ bonus

He didn’t like to sink into a routine too much. That's how you got into trouble. People realized who you were and what patterns you lived in. He didn’t like the thought of anyone having enough dirt on him to hold it over him.

"Why is a pot talking to a kettle and how does it know it's black. What if it's white. ITS TOO LATE FOR THESE QUESTIONS."

I'm participating! I'll be away for the first half of the month so it won't be 'official', but I'm looking forward to it :)

I posted this story on AO3 and ff.net last year but forgot to post it on here. It's based on the stage play, which Annie Live! basically was, with a few references to the movies as well. So you could picture Harry and Nicole in this story, or any other portrayal of Grace and Oliver that you envision.

Enjoy my little Christmas/Annie-inspired fic!

....

"I don't need anything for Christmas but you".

December 24th, 1925

The Warbucks mansion was much quieter than the frantic hustle and bustle most days brought about. Half of the staff had gone home for the holidays, allocated three days off to celebrate the festive season with their loved ones. There would be a few staying on of course. Oliver Warbucks was not without basic life skills, but he would certainly find it difficult to run a home the size of his without help. Even for a couple of days.  

Newly appointed secretary Grace Farrell had been asked by Mr. Warbucks to stay until the last possible moment on Christmas Eve to assist him with necessary business. As the Billionaire had said several times over the past few weeks, time and money wait for no man, not even the Lord Jesus. 

Grace was packing the last few things into her suitcase when she heard a soft knock at her door, followed by a man clearing his throat. 

She looked up quickly to see her boss standing there, looking into her room hesitantly. 

“Oh, Mr. Warbucks”, Grace quickly closed the top of her suitcase so he wouldn’t see her personal items. It would be most improper. Come to think of it, it wasn’t exactly proper etiquette for the man to be visiting her at her bedroom either. 

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss Farrell.” 

“Not at all, Sir. Is there something I can help you with?” The young woman blinked up at her employer who stood, ever commanding, in her doorway. 

“Oh no, I’m aware you are off duty. I only came to see that you receive this before you leave.” 

He stretched out his arm, not daring to step any further into the woman’s bedroom. In his hand, he held an envelope. Grace stepped forward to take it from him. 

“Your Christmas bonus”, Oliver explained simply. 

“Oh, thank you very much, Sir”, she opened the envelope hastily and gaped at the figure on the check. “Mr. Warbucks...Sir, this is more than generous.” 

“It is no more than you deserve”, he told her. 

Grace stared at him a moment. She was beginning to understand this man to be incredibly kind, and almost sweet, though almost entirely without meaning to be. 

“Well...thank you”, she gave him a small smile. 

“You’re spending Christmas with family?” He asked her, causing Grace to pause, in shock. She believed this must have been the first instance of him asking her something personal in the full eight months she had been working for him. 

“Ah, yes. My Father in Connecticut.” 

“I see. That’s nice.” 

Grace nodded slowly. Making small talk was not Oliver Warbucks’ forte in the least. Perhaps it was his small attempt at being merry.  

“Yes. My train leaves at two pm.” 

“Mm”, Oliver nodded, before glancing quickly at his watch. His eyes bulged. “Oh! And I’m keeping you, I do apologize, Miss Farrell.” 

“It’s alright, Sir. I have enough time.” 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to drive you to the station? It’ll be much quicker.” 

Grace was stunned by his offer. “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Warbucks, but I have a cab coming already.” 

“Of course. You’re nothing if not organized, Miss Farrell. One of the many qualities that make you such a fine secretary.” 

Grace was quite floored by his sudden kindness. Perhaps now that they were technically outside of work, he was a little freer to show his slightly more considerate side. 

“Thank you”, she replied, feeling her face flush a little as she placed her hat on her head and picked up her suitcase. 

“Well, Merry Christmas, Miss Farrell”, he told her in the slightly more business tone she was used to. 

“Merry Christmas to you, Mr. Warbucks”, she returned gently. 

He exited her room ahead of her and she watched him walk away down the large corridor, presumably back to his office where he would most likely continue to work. 

It suddenly occurred to Grace just how lonely he must be.    

… 

December 25th, 1927

Oliver Warbucks sighed as he hung up the phone. He hated this part of his job - personal relations. He was a businessman who was most comfortable with charts and figures. He was, by no means, a people person. Without his steadfast, dependable secretary around to help him field all of the phone calls he received, he had no other option but to speak to people *shudder*, himself. 

Of course, being that it was Christmas day, there weren’t a lot of people wishing to conduct business anyway, but the stock market never took a rest, not even on Christmas, and a man in his position had to remain vigilant. 

Oliver huffed as he pushed his chair back from his desk with his feet. He stood up and walked downstairs, looking for a beverage containing plenty of alcohol. Prohibition was in full swing but that didn’t have much effect on the richest man in the world.

As he descended the marble stairs and rounded the corner, he collided with another person who made a sound of surprise. “Ooh.” His hands quickly went out to steady himself and to stop the other person from falling. When he gained his balance and looked up, he was baffled to see it was his secretary he was holding. 

“Miss Farrell?” He looked at her quizzically. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Warbucks, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” 

“But why are you here, Miss Farrell? It’s Christmas Day.” 

Grace ducked her head, looking despondent. “Yes, well, I don’t have anywhere else to go this Christmas.”    

Oliver kicked himself as he remembered her request for bereavement leave back in May of that year. “Your Father...I apologize, I’d forgotten.” 

Grace sniffed. “No apology necessary, Sir.” 

Oliver grit his teeth, livid at himself for making her cry. “Do you not have anyone else to spend the holidays with? No other relations?” 

She shook her head in dismay. “No, none who are close enough.” 

He wasn’t sure if she meant familially or geographically, but he decided it might have been a delicate subject, so he left it. Instead, he clicked his fingers and said decisively, “Well then, you shall join me for Christmas lunch.” 

Grace’s bloodshot eyes snapped up to his. “Oh no Sir, I couldn’t.” 

“Why on Earth, not?”  

“Well it’s, it’s just not customary”, she stammered. 

His voice dropped, still speaking to her directive but with more gentleness than he’d probably ever spoken to her before. “It’s Christmas, Miss Farrell, and we’re alone.” 

Something about his words made Grace’s heart pick up speed. 

“I think we can forgo custom for this one day, don’t you?” He was looking at her persuasively but also with a little longing, and Grace recalled the previous two years how when she’d left the mansion, she’d thought about him all alone there, save for the few domestics still in residence, but otherwise, without company.  

It had been a tough year for Grace. She missed her Dad and his letters terribly. She wished for some company of her own. She would feel very out of place at Mr. Warbucks’ dinner table, but the idea was certainly more appealing than cold meat sandwiches in the butlers pantry. 

“Thank you Mr. Warbucks, I accept”, she said graciously. 

“Splendid, I’ll see you there promptly at twelve.” 

Grace smiled to herself. He was still running to a strict schedule even though she wasn’t working and wouldn’t keep him to it. It made her rather proud of him, she had to admit.  

“Yes, Sir.” She bowed her head before going upstairs to change for lunch. 

When they were both seated in the dining room at noon, one of the kitchen hands, a middle-aged man with a slightly hunched back, brought out their Christmas dinner which had all the trimmings and then some. 

Grace had never indulged so much in her entire life. Oliver, not used to having anyone at the table with him, did not spark up a lot of conversation, but he did take her glass and pour her wine for her, which gave Grace a glow of warmth in her chest. For just an hour or so, as she dined with the richest man in the world, she let herself believe that this was truly how her life was.   

…

December 24th, 1929

It had been a terrible year for many people, and even Oliver Warbucks, perhaps, especially Oliver Warbucks was in a state of turmoil and distress. He was after all, the one person in the world who had the power to change the circumstances of so many. He wasn’t a socialist by any means, but he desperately wished he could fix the economy and restore hope to the many millions who were struggling. 

He sat at his desk, late into the night, pouring over paperwork. It was just before twelve a.m when he heard the soft thud of heels across his egyptian-carpeted floor. He looked up in surprise to see his secretary before him, holding another stack of papers in her arms. 

“Miss Farrell....I didn’t expect you to still be working. It’s almost Christmas Day.” 

“I’m not the only one, Sir. A few of us are staying behind this year. We know how difficult things are at the moment and we want to be here to support you.” 

Her expression was earnest but Oliver couldn’t help but think that the others who were staying at the mansion to help keep the house running so he could focus purely on his work, had only elected to do so at Grace’s suggestion. 

“Well, thank you. I sincerely appreciate it, and please thank the other members of staff for me also.” 

"I shall", Grace smiled gently, lowering the stack of papers to the desk. Oliver sprang to his feet and reached across the desk. "Here, let me help you." 

"Oh, thank you", Grace shivered as his hands brushed her forearms when he took the pages from her. 

The two locked eyes and both stood with their hands resting on the paper stack, simply gazing at one another. 

Feeling an intense heat she could not bear, Grace averted her eyes. Oliver straightened his back and said, "Why don't we leave this until tomorrow after lunch? I think we both could use a few hours off, don't you?" 

"Are you sure, Sir?" Grace asked him, looking tentative. 

"Quite sure. In fact, I think a Christmas toast is in order." 

He rounded the desk and opened a bottle of brandy which he now kept in his office. Prohibition be damned, he needed a good stiff drink now and again. 

Grace watched silently as he poured two glasses of brandy, then held one out to her. She took it from him, feeling that old familiar feeling of butterflies in her belly. 

"Here's to the festive season. May the spirit of yuletide help to ease the burdens of a tumultuous year." 

"Hear, hear", Grace breathed, clinking her glass ever so carefully against his. 

"Please, sit with me a moment?" Oliver motioned to the leather couch beside them. 

Grace’s eyes widened at the invitation. The drink, she felt, was crossing a professional boundary, but asking her to join him on his couch was something she'd never have expected him to do. 

However, when he sat down, she dutifully followed, perching herself far on the other end. 

"You have no brothers or sisters, Miss Farrell?" 

Grace stilled, was he really attempting small talk with her? At close to midnight? 

She swallowed. "I had a sister. She died when I was eight and she was five. Rheumatic fever." 

Oliver cast his eyes to the floor, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry. That must be painful for you to relive." 

"We were both very young. It affected my Mother greatly. She too passed away, only a couple of years after." 

"That must have been very difficult for you and your Father." 

Grace blinked, embarrassed to find tears pooling in her eyes. "Yes, it was. Oh, but he was marvelous. I'm sure it must have been tremendously tough for him but he never once let me see his pain. He remained so cheerful and optimistic all throughout his life, and that was all for me, I suppose." 

"I'm sure he was very proud to be your Father." 

Grace looked into his eyes and saw the sincerity in them. She sniffed as tears fell from her own eyes. "Thank you Sir. I was very proud to be his daughter." 

Oliver sat panicked for a moment. He hadn't intended to make her cry. "Do you remember Christmases with your Mother and sister?" He asked, trying to lighten the conversation. 

Indeed it worked. A smile came to Grace’s face as she thought back to twenty years prior. "Yes, I do. I remember Amelia - that was my sister's name." 

Oliver tilted his head in acknowledgement. 

“I remember her receiving a toy that I had wanted myself. I was so mad at my parents for giving it to her and not me”, Grace laughed airily and Oliver chuckled along with her. “But then later they told me that they had enrolled me in ballet classes and I forgave them instantly.” 

“Oh? I never knew you studied ballet”, Oliver’s eyes raked over her. He wasn’t at all surprised, she certainly had the figure for it. His heart stopped as he realized the thought that had just entered his head. He scolded himself internally for even thinking about his secretary that way. 

“Oh yes”, Grace’s smile widened even further. “Right up until my college years.” 

“Why, Miss Farrell, I wasn’t aware you had that kind of talent.” 

Grace’s face flushed. Her employer did look genuinely interested. It had been a long time since someone had taken such an interest in her. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that person would be Oliver Warbucks, the billionaire. 

She shifted in her seat, turning slightly to see him better. “What about you, Sir? I know it must seem like a lifetime ago, but do you remember Christmases with your family?”  

“Oh, very vaguely. We didn’t have any gifts, but my Mother always made sure we had a special day, somehow.” He looked reminiscent. 

“She sounds like a wonderful woman”, Grace said softly to him. 

“Yes, I believe she was”, Oliver smiled waterily.

Damn, he’d started this conversation to make Grace feel happier, not make himself feel sadder! 

“It sounds as if neither one of us has had a particularly easy start to life”, Grace pointed out. 

“No, but, here we are”, Oliver said, looking around his luxurious office, and then back at her. 

Grace looked at him in amazement. It was possibly the first time that he had ever been the optimist between the two of them. She found she was rather taken by it. “Here we are”, she repeated in awe.  

The grandfather clock beside them chimed softly once. The sound alone told them what the time was, but they both glanced at the clock face anyway.  

“Midnight”, they said in unison. 

“That means it’s Christmas”, Grace added jovially. 

“So it is. Merry Christmas, Miss Farrell.” 

She felt as if he was looking at her in a completely different way. Like he could see her better all of a sudden. She supposed she could see him a little better too. 

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Warbucks.” 

…

December 24th, 1931

Since the beginning of the depression, more and more of the staff had begun to stay at the Warbucks mansion during Christmas. It was going to take a whole nation to pull them out of this thing, and so it would certainly take all of his staff to support the man who had the means to do it. 

Christmas lunch had become a tradition for Oliver and Grace now. It was something some of the other staff had initially taken exception to. One of the maids even commented, “It’s like she’s his wife, not his secretary.” 

Grace had unfortunately been standing just around the corner from them and had heard the comment. It had made her feel incredibly self-conscious and she’d almost declined lunch with Mr. Warbucks, but seeing the smallest glimpse of cheer in his eyes when he’d reminded her about it the day before, Grace hadn’t had the heart to do so. Truth be told, she looked forward to it all year. 

When Mrs. Pugh brought them their meal, she gave Grace a knowing smile before returning to the kitchen. 

They had decided to refrain from any business talk at the Christmas lunch table, but even after so many years together, they struggled for conversation. 

“Mrs. Pugh’s ham seems to taste better every year”, Grace sighed contentedly after devouring a succulent piece of the aforementioned meat. 

“Well, I suppose each year the recipe becomes more and more refined”, Oliver replied with a smile of his own. 

“Yes, I suppose that’s true”, Grace smiled, stabbing a piece of carrot with her fork. 

“Much like me”, Oliver added comically and Grace burst into laughter. Oliver’s eyes lit up at the sound of it. He’d never heard her laugh so much and he thought it had to be the most beautiful sound in the world. 

He grinned widely at her as she dabbed her eyes with her napkin. “Like a fine wine, Sir”, she agreed with him as her laughter died down, and Oliver’s heart skipped a beat at her comment. . 

“More like a mouldy old cheese”, he deflected, not being one who was so good at accepting compliments.  

“Nooo”, she objected, narrowing her eyes at him. 

“Well, if there’s been any improvement over the past few years, I can only surmise that it is all because of you being here. I think you may be very good for me, Miss Farrell.” 

It was probably an off-handed comment but when Grace looked up, he was watching her closely, possibly afraid that he’d said the wrong thing, or rather too much of the right thing. 

Grace wasn’t sure what to say in response to him, so she just smiled politely and took another sip of wine. There were many things she could say to him, many things she might say if she were brave enough. 

Working with the man in close proximity every day for so long had given Grace the feeling that their relationship was a rather intimate one, despite the fact that it was purely professional. Nobody knew Oliver Warbucks the way she did, and she didn’t think there was anyone who cared for him as much as she did either. 

Of course she knew it was unrealistic to expect that he would ever care for her in the same way. She was his employee and any words of kindness were simply said out of professional courtesy.    

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence. When the two of them stood to leave the dining room, Grace thanked him for inviting her as she always did and Oliver thanked her in turn for her company. 

As Oliver pushed the wooden door to the next room open, he took a step back as he saw Drake, Mrs. Pugh, and two more of the cooks looking at him and Grace expectantly. Drake cleared his throat and cast his eyes upward. It was then that Oliver noticed the mistletoe. 

His mouth hung open as he stared up at it. Meanwhile, Grace turned to glare at the staff in a way that said “I’ll deal with you all later.” It didn’t seem to deter them as they watched her and Oliver keenly to see what they would do. 

“Oh go on, it’s tradition”, Mrs. Pugh piped up, pursing her lips as Grace’s eyes widened at her guile. 

Oliver lowered his head and looked at Grace searchingly. She met his eyes and smiled shyly. He took a step towards her and she turned her face slightly to the side, expecting him to place a friendly kiss to her cheek. She did not expect him to chase her lips and catch them with his own, nor did she expect his lips to feel so soft, but that is exactly what he did, and how they felt. Automatically, her hands reached up to grip his shoulders. Her heart was pounding ferociously, she was sure he must have felt it against his mouth. 

The kiss lasted a mere couple of seconds, but within that time, Grace felt as though the whole world had changed. 

She stared at her boss, dumbfounded. Had he felt the electricity between them the same as she had? 

Oliver cleared his throat and looked at the other members of staff. “Well...that’s quite enough foolishness. Let’s all get back to work.” 

Grace bowed her head in disappointment. She guessed not. 

Oliver left the room quickly while Grace swallowed back her emotion and painted on a professional face as she spoke to the butler. “Drake, will you take that thing down please.” 

“Yes, Miss Farrell.” The butler’s face fell as Grace walked past him. She didn’t miss the crestfallen expression on the face of Mrs. Pugh either. 

…

December 24th, 1933 

Christmas at the Warbucks mansion was decidedly different this year. They had all been through what felt like a rollercoaster of emotions this past week. First there was intrigue and wonderment over the little orphan girl who had stolen all their hearts - they were as fascinated with her as she was with them and the mansion. 

Then, when Mr. Warbucks had promised to find her parents after attempting to replace their locket with his own, effectively replacing them in her life, (at least that’s what it had felt like to Annie), all of the staff had sprung into action, working tirelessly to assist Mr. Warbucks in finding them. 

Grace had seen how brokenhearted Oliver was that Annie had rejected his gift, and in essence, rejected him. She could see he was slowly falling in love with the little girl, just as she herself was.  

Then there was the immense joy throughout the house when Oliver told Annie he wished to adopt her. He had been so ecstatic and resolute in his decision that he had taken Grace in his arms and spun her around in a dance. Grace became quite light headed, not so much because of the motion but because of the proximity of the man. 

When Annie had accepted his offer of adoption, there was tremendous excitement in the house as they all prepared for a wonderful Christmas eve adoption party. 

Then, the “Mudges” arrived and everything went downhill again. Annie’s parents had been found, but the little girl was conflicted. She’d longed to find her real family for so many years, but she had just been offered the chance to have such a spectacular life with people she loved very much. Why could they not have come for her during all those miserable, lonely years at the orphanage? 

“To Annie...Mudge”, Oliver toasted somberly. 

Annie was too overcome, too distraught to be leaving such wonderful people. She ran upstairs crying. 

“Annie!” Grace called after her, wanting to console the child but deciding she might be best left alone to try and come to terms with everything. Grace’s affection would only confuse her more. 

“Sir”, she said as she approached Oliver, who looked so handsome, but so defeated. “That Mr. Mudge, I swear I’ve seen him before. I just can’t place where or when, but I have the strangest feeling that he is not who he says he is.”  

Oliver looked at her with the smallest glint of hope in his eyes. He squeezed her hand gently before walking over to the president. 

“Franklin...I need your help.” 

The next few hours were spent using every available resource and highly skilled detective they could contact on Christmas to assist in finding the truth of Annie and her parents. 

By the early hours of the morning, they had learned that Grace had been correct in her assumption that the Mudges were not who they claimed. They were also able to trace Annie’s real parents through the handwriting in her note. Sadly, they had passed away some years prior. 

Oliver thanked everyone who had assisted with the investigation sincerely and promised they would all be rewarded for their efforts substantially. 

He closed the doors to his office, finally finding solace in the quiet after all the flurry.  

“I feel awful.” 

Oliver jumped at the sound of the voice behind him. He turned to see his secretary sitting on his couch, looking forlorn. 

“Miss Farrell, you started me. I didn't know you were in here." 

Grace stood immediately from the couch. "I'm sorry Mr. Warbucks, you've had a terribly long night. I'll leave you in peace." 

"No, no, wait", he stilled her by placing his hand on her shoulder. "I want you to stay and tell me what's troubling you." 

Grace swallowed and sat back down on the couch. "I'm so relieved the Mudges aren't Annie's parents." 

"Aren't we all?" Oliver interrupted, flopping down next to her. "What's awful about that?" 

Grace shook her head. "My heart is broken for Annie that she will never get to meet her real parents, but I can't help but feel the smallest bit of relief about that too because when I thought she was leaving, oh I just couldn't bear it. I couldn't bear to lose her, I love her so much." The woman burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably. 

"All she's ever wanted are her real parents and she's never going to have that and I'm happy about it. I'm such a monster!" She buried her face in her hands. 

"You are the farthest thing from a monster there is", Oliver’s stern voice told her. 

He pulled her hands away from her face and held them in his own. "If it weren't for you, Annie would never have known the truth about her parents, and that is a far worse fate than what she has in store now." 

Grace’s bottom lip trembled, captivated by him as he spoke to her with such utter conviction. 

"If it hadn't been for you, she would still be left in that awful place with nothing else but a misguided hope." 

His thumb stroked the back of her hand gently. "As it is, Annie has the brightest future in the world, and perhaps she has found her parents. She has found us." 

Grace was completely stunned by his words, by what they meant. "Us?" She croaked. 

He let go of one of her hands to bring his warm palm to her cheek. "Yes, us." He affirmed quietly but with confidence. 

Her heart soared as he inched closer to her, gently pulling her face to his and meeting her lips with his in a delicate kiss. 

Grace’s hands grasped his face in her own hands, deepening the kiss, keeping him close, not wishing to let go just yet. 

Not wishing to let go ever, in fact. 

Only when she felt the need for air did she separate herself from him. "Oliver", she gasped. "I...I didn't know..you..." 

"For so many years, Grace", he exhaled deeply, his whole body relaxing with the confession. 

"Why did you never tell me?" Grace asked him, emotion clouding her eyes. 

Oliver closed his eyes and shook his head. "I wanted to, I very nearly did on many occasions, but I just wasn't brave enough." 

"What do you mean, "brave"? Were you afraid of telling me how you feel?" She took his hand in hers again. 

Oliver shrugged, looking bashful. 

Grace couldn't help but laugh in astonishment. "Why? I'm nothing special. You're the most desirable man in the world!" 

"You are the most special person to me. I wouldn’t be half of what I am without you", Oliver said emphatically to her, surprising Grace with his candor. 

"And as for me being desirable. I have no interest in being desired by anyone but you." 

Grace’s physically sat back in shock. 

Oliver looked at her, alarmed. "You do...feel desire for me, do you not?" He swallowed nervously. 

Grace practically panted in response to his question. "Far too much to be appropriate as your employee." 

Oliver's eyes widened at her reveal. "I hope I've done enough to prove to you these past few years that you're more than just my employee." 

Grace thought back to all the years, all the Christmases before. Being invited to dine with him for Christmas lunch and having that unspoken privilege for the past six years. She’d thought it was because he'd initially felt sorry for her, but as the years went on and they grew closer, she had begun to think that there may be more to it. She had dared to hope that he might care for her as she cared for him. 

It was overwhelming to know that her hopes were coming true.

"I love you, Oliver." Her heart felt like it was bursting open as she finally set the words free. 

Oliver reached for her quickly, embracing her in his loving arms. "And I love you, Grace." 

They spent the next few hours in each others arms. Recalling all their time together, all the times they had been struck by awe and admiration for each other and had nearly revealed their true feelings. In the end, they both agreed that it was Annie, coupled with the spirit of Christmas, that had finally given them both the confidence they had long needed. 

Oliver had realized that there were more important things than his work. That other things mattered and meant more to him. Annie and Grace were at the very top of that list. 

Grace had begun to see, through Annie's eyes that she could be loved, that she deserved love. That risking your heart was worth every bit of the possible reward. 

As the sun began to rise outside his office window, the two of them crept downstairs hand in hand. They were surprised to see Annie up so early. 

Together, along with the president, they broke the difficult news to her about her parents. Annie was, in true Annie fashion, very brave and mature about the whole thing, including figuring out who exactly the imposters were pretending she was their daughter. 

Once the frauds had been exposed and Miss Hannigan had also been carted away by police, Annie had again shown her incredible resilience by cheering up the other orphans with her positive outlook. 

Oliver had agreed that brighter days were surely ahead when he said, "Yes children, for you and perhaps for all of us, this Christmas could be the beginning of a wonderful new life." 

He took Grace’s hand in his own and her smile told him that it definitely would. 

…

December 25th, 1935 

Oliver picked up his grizzling five month old son, David Franklin Warbucks out of his crib and bounced him on his shoulder. “Now, now young man, there’s no need for that. It’s your very first Christmas, son. This is a very happy day.” 

“Every day spent with you is a very happy day, Mr. Warbucks”, the child’s mother smiled at him from his desk where she was filing invoices. 

“Come on, Mrs. Warbucks, leave the work for now. It’s Christmas Day.” 

“I know, there’s just a lot to catch up on from the past six months”, Grace stretched as she stood from the desk. 

“Yes, I really have been quite lost without you here in the office.” 

“Well, this little man has just required too much of my attention”, she walked over to her husband and took their son from him.    

“Mm, lucky little scamp”, Oliver said affectionately, tugging lightly on his son’s tiny little foot. 

“Oh, it’s not as if his Father has been completely lacking for attention either...in a personal manner, at least.” She shimmied up to Oliver and he bent down to kiss her ardently. 

Grace beamed at him when they broke apart. “Come on, let’s call the girls down so they can open their presents.” 

Oliver nodded excitedly in response. “Drake, will you please fetch Annie and Molly?” 

“Gladly, Sir”, Drake bowed, looking truly very happy. 

He returned only a moment later, chuckling. “They were waiting right outside the door, Sir, Ma’am.” 

Grace giggled in response, holding her arm out to her daughters. “What a surprise.” 

“Merry Christmas Mom, Merry Christmas Dad”, the two girls chorused. 

“Merry Christmas girls”, the adults grinned in unison. 

“I’m so excited for my baby brother to have his first Christmas!” Molly bounced up and down on her feet. Oliver reached down and picked his youngest daughter up, smacking a kiss to her cheek. 

“He can open your gift first if you like, Molly”, Annie offered to her younger sister who looked absolutely delighted. “Oh yes, thanks Annie!” The younger girl bent down excitedly to pick up her present for the baby. 

“Good girl”, Oliver smiled proudly at his eldest child, stroking her red hair affectionately. 

As their children opened their presents, Grace and Oliver watched on with hearts full of joy. Of all the Christmases they had spent together, they both finally had everything they could have possibly wished for. 

Grace placed baby David in Annie's lap as she sat down on the floor next to Molly. 

As she stood back up, Oliver put his arm around her and looking at her with eyes full of love, whispered, "Merry Christmas, my dear."

She smiled adoringly at the man who had given her all she had ever wanted in life. "Merry Christmas, darling."