The trouble began when Marian Paroo Hill decided to bob her hair. After a lifetime of wearing it pinned back and tucked out of sight, she was itching for a change. She wasn't the first female in River City to adopt the new style – practically all the women below forty had cut their hair in the four years since the ratification of the nineteenth amendment. As Marian was only thirty-eight years old, she figured she was still young enough to do something foolish and fashionable.

And one would think that, after twelve years of marriage, a woman had earned the right to wear her hair however she chose! Heaven knew she didn't have time to maintain an elaborate chignon, especially when she had her hands full with the twins. It had been quite the shock to Marian when she gave birth not to one child, but two – and both of them daughters! When Harold had heard the news, he only laughed and said it figured he ended up outnumbered three to one.

After careful consideration and a bit of leafing through the classics, they decided to call the girls Penelope and Elinor – elegant names that would still wear well. But the ever-practical River City-ziens promptly shortened things to Penny and Elly. After a futile battle – which was fought mostly by Marian, as Harold adored the new nicknames – Marian surrendered and only addressed the girls by their full names when she was scolding them.

And to her dismay, she ended up doing this quite often. With their honey-blonde curls and china-doll complexions, the twins may have taken after their mother in appearance, but they had their father's gregariousness and zeal for life. Of course, the girls' personalities weren't entirely the same: Penny, the elder twin, was more rambunctious and adventurous than her sister – and the mastermind of most of their tomfoolery. Elly, on the other hand, was more staid and retiring, preferring to read and play the piano instead of spending every moment outdoors. But Elly did have a mischievous streak, which made her a willing participant in several of her older sister's schemes.

And Penny was always up to something: When she turned six, she proudly declared that she wanted to be an explorer. To practice for her future career, Penny planned and launched bold expeditions that usually resulted in her returning home with a muddy dress, scraped knees and some ghastly animal or plant specimen. Privately, Marian liked to tease Harold that Penny was the son he never had.

Penny also delighted in taking risks that sometimes led to injury – at the mere age of five, she had broken her arm after taking a dare from one of the boys to touch the top of the flagpole outside City Hall. Penny had succeeded in this quest, but halfway down the flagpole, she lost her grip and went tumbling to the ground. This little fiasco put her out of commission for an entire summer and, though Penny was disappointed, Marian was secretly relieved to have her daughter under their roof for a little while.

Marian and Harold could always tell their daughters apart, but it wasn't so easy for everyone else in town. Naturally, Penny and Elly took full advantage of this as soon as they were old enough to realize they could. Marian would never forget that exasperating July during the twins' eighth year – the phone had rung off the hook almost daily as the victims of the girls' pranks called to express their displeasure.

At first, Marian was at her wit's end on how to deal with this new ploy, but when Harold came up with the brilliant solution of automatically punishing both twins whenever one of them misbehaved – even if the culprit was clearly identifiable – life had settled back down into some semblance of normalcy. But Marian was sure the twins would eventually get up to some fresh mischief; they always did.

Harold had told her the world didn't need another charming charlatan, but now there seemed to be two in the making! Though the twins seemed to cause more trouble than their fair share, they were so winsome and amiable they got away with a lot more than they probably should have. Fortunately, Harold's familiarity with this pattern in his own childhood gave him unique insight into dealing with such challenges and, under his careful hand, the girls were becoming conscientious, upstanding young ladies.

It also helped that the twins had inherited their mother's honest temperament: If they didn't like something, they did not hesitate to make their displeasure known. Marian was actually quite nervous about showing them her new bob – she hadn't told anyone she was planning to shorten her hair. But to her delight, Penny and Elly had nothing but effusive compliments. The moment they saw their mother's new coiffure, they oohed and aahed and begged to be allowed to bob their own hair. When Marian told them that one major fashion change per decade was enough for their household, they vowed they would count the years until they could be as beautiful as their lovely mother.

Harold's reaction was a bit more underwhelming. As soon as he walked through the door that night, he stopped mid-step and stared at Marian with a stunned expression.

"Well, what do you think?" she asked shyly, running her fingers through her curls.

He grinned. "Been watching a lot of newsreels, lately? You look like Roxie Hart!"

Marian raised an eyebrow. She didn't find being compared to Chicago's "sweetest little jazz killer" all that flattering – no matter how attractive the woman was. "Is that supposed to be a compliment, darling?"

In response, Harold gave her a wink and tweaked one of her curls.

XXX

Two nights later, when Marian was closing the library, Harold showed up alone. His presence was a pleasant surprise – on the one or two days each week she worked until evening, Harold and the twins always arrived to escort her home (or as happened more often, to the Candy Kitchen for strawberry phosphates). But in the past few weeks, Marian had only been met by the girls.

She couldn't remember the last time it was just her and Harold walking together. Now that they were alone, Marian felt a resurgence of that exhilarating romantic spark from the early, heady days of their marriage. She beamed at her husband. "Where are Penny and Elly?"

His eyes twinkled. "Last I saw our dear daughters, they were happily anticipating a long visit with Winthrop and Amaryllis."

Marian's heart began to beat a little faster. It had been several weeks since Harold made arrangements for the girls to be elsewhere. "How long do you expect they will be gone?" she asked, trying to keep her voice nonchalant.

Harold's arm stole around her waist. "Oh, I'd say until tomorrow morning – at least."

XXX

They started their romantic evening as they usually did – sharing tea and conversation together in the parlor. Only this time, Harold kept reaching over and tweaking her curls. This had become a habit with him ever since he had come home to find her with bobbed hair. Whether it was a fond gesture of affection or a childish way of expressing his displeasure, Marian couldn't determine. Either way, her husband certainly seemed to be enjoying himself.

But Marian was growing irritated. After he had tugged on her hair for what seemed like the twentieth time, she swatted his hand away. "What do you keep doing that for? I'm not a bell pull!"

"Just getting a feel for your new style, my dear," he said impishly. "You look so young with bobbed hair!"

She rolled her eyes. "I suppose next you'll say I should be donning a pinafore!"

As Harold laughed at her retort, she saw the crinkles around his eyes and mouth, and the faint streaks of gray in the hair above his ears. "I'm just concerned people will think I'm your father," he teased. "Or perhaps your john."

After twelve years of marriage, Marian did not blush too often, but at her husband's ribald remark, she felt her cheeks crimsoning in a way they hadn't since she was a new bride. "Harold!" she exclaimed, giving a shocked laugh.

He chuckled ruefully. "Was that too indelicate? I apologize, darling." But Harold didn't look particularly sorry; his eyes still gleamed with mischief.

"You're terrible!" she scolded – though she still shook with laughter. "This conversation has definitely taken a sharp turn for the worse!"

"I quite agree, Madam Librarian," he said gravely. "How about a little music to raise the tone in here?" He stood up and went over to the Victrola. Marian was reduced to hysterics yet again by his prim, foppish walk.

"As long as you don't put on The Charleston again!" she retorted, taking her place by his side. "We broke a lamp last time, remember?"

Harold grinned as he selected a record from their collection. "No, I was thinking about something a little… slower." He finished winding up the Victrola, and the sound of a familiar, provocative tango filled the air.

Marian froze. Suddenly, she was twenty-six again, and standing on the sidewalk in front of her mother's house.

"Wait a minute, Mr. Cowell. You don't know me very well – yet!"

"Is that an invitation, girly-girl?"

Marian hadn't thought about her encounter with the anvil salesman in years. And now Harold was bringing it all back as he sauntered toward her with slow, seductive steps, a sly smile on his face. Despite her horror, Marian could never turn down a dance with Harold – she found herself backing away in unison. "Where did you get that?" she gasped.

Harold seemed to mistake her dismay for pleasure; he reached out and pulled Marian into his arms. "It was sitting at the bottom of a box of dishes deep in your mother's attic. I found it when we were helping her clean things out last week. The cover was coated with mildew – we're lucky the record still plays!"

"Yes – lucky," Marian muttered as Harold led her through the dance. She knew she should have broken that blasted record when she had the chance! If it had been hers, she would have done so, but it was her mother's, and she hesitated to take such liberties with another person's possessions. Though if Marian had known the record would come back to haunt her like this, she wouldn't have had any qualms about smashing it into pieces!

Harold gazed thoughtfully at his wife. "Is anything the matter, sweetheart? You seem a little distant this evening."

Marian forced herself to smile. "I'm sorry, darling," she said contritely. "I just never particularly cared for the tango."

"Well, that's a real shame," he replied in his low, velvety voice. "You dance it so beautifully." Giving her the look that always made her melt, he dipped her. But as her husband leaned in for a kiss, Marian saw Charlie Cowell's leering face.

"What am I doing? If I miss that train I'll lose my job, and I've got to leave word about that fella Hill!"

"Leave word with me."

"Not on your tintype, girly-girl! How do I know you'll deliver these letters?"

"Try me!"

Just as Harold's lips were about to touch hers, Marian pushed him away.