It was a quiet morning at Professor Harold Hill's Musical Emporium. The mild rainstorm which settled over River City the previous night still drizzled outside, and with rehearsal still a day away and no shipments to itemize, the usually bustling store was silent.
But Harold Hill didn't mind this in the least. For all his bombastic displays, the music professor actually enjoyed a quiet reprieve every now and then. The lull in business had allowed him to catch up on several weeks' worth of correspondence and shipping bills. Marian, who usually helped him with the store's finances, had spent less time there since discovering she was with child last month, and as such, the stack of paperwork had grown considerably higher than it normally would have had she been there.
Two hours spent sorting through the various stacks of paper had put a sizeable dent in the mess, but the music professor knew he still had a solid day's work ahead of him. The door to his office stood ajar, and Harold paused, content to listen to the steady sound of raindrops splattering against the glass panes of the store's windows. There really was nothing more enjoyable than the symphony of a summer rainstorm.
The music professor fleetingly wished Marian was with him to enjoy the solitude of the morning rain and then chuckled. Were Marian to join him now, with the Emporium empty and a soft, summer storm brewing outside, Harold had a feeling his office might become quite busy indeed, and it wouldn't be from work.
Tucking the idea away with a rueful smile, Harold returned his attention to the shipping manifest and resumed making ticks next to each item. There was work to be done. He would have to fantasize about his lovely wife later.
XXX
Meow.
…
Harold glanced up from the ledger with a frown. He could've sworn he'd just heard a cat. He waited a moment, listening. When nothing but silence greeted him, he shrugged and looked back down.
Meow.
His pencil clattered to the desk, and the music professor stood up. He'd definitely heard it that time. And it was a cat. But where? Making his way to the door, he poked his head out of the office and glanced around. Instruments lay neatly stacked against the far corner of the showroom. The countertop was spotless, with no animal in sight.
Meow.
Meow!
Harold turned. It sounded as if it were coming from the discarded cases in the nearby corner. His eyes narrowing, he made his way through the stands and cases of sheet music. When he reached the corner, he saw it.
There, in one of the large, empty tuba cases, lay a thin, scraggly ginger cat. Its fur stood up in too many directions to count, and Harold could plainly see it was still wet.
"How on earth did you manage to get inside here?" he asked it, bending down to peer into the wide green eyes that peered back at him from within the depth of the case.
The little cat didn't answer.
Carefully, Harold reached in and gently wrapped his hands around the stowaway, lifting him in the air and settling the cat in his arms. The orange ball instantly started purring which made the former conman chuckle.
"Oh no," he grinned. "That won't work on me. Come on, it's back outside with you. I'm sure you can find a dry spot somewhere."
But when Harold opened the door and tried to lower the cat to the ground, it instantly tightened his claws within the sleeves of Harold's coat and began to loudly meow. The moment he was nestled back in the music professor's arms, the mewling stopped and loud purring resonated from his speckled-white chest.
Lowering the cat to the ground produced the same reaction, and again, once ensconced back in Harold's arms, purring resumed.
They did this a few times, cat and man. Finally, Harold narrowed his eyes at the orange con artist and nodded.
"I know a con when I see one, and you run a pretty good game little man. You can stay until the rain lessens. Deal?"
The cat simply closed its eyes as Harold carried it back to the tuba case. The professor started to lower him back into the empty case before pausing and frowning. It was a tad bit chilly in the store today, and the cat was still damp.
Remembering a sack full of clean polishing cloths Marian had brought a few days ago, he rummaged behind the counter and selected a few of the thicker ones. Laying them in the case, he arranged them into a makeshift bed before placing the little cat back inside.
"There, that should keep you plenty warm."
The tiny cat stared back at him for a moment and then began to plaintively meow. Harold shook his head.
"No, you're fine. Now you hush," Harold scolded. "I have plenty of work to do without worrying about a little tomcat."
Surprisingly enough, the tiny kitten did indeed quiet down, and Harold, satisfied with the arrangement turned and headed back toward his office; however, he hadn't gotten more than five steps before he felt ten sharp claws sink into his pant leg. Emitting a loud yelp, Harold jumped and looked down to see the small cat attached to his trousers.
"Why you little…" he trailed off and gingerly reached down to free himself of its clutches. When the kitten still continued to meow, even after Harold cradled in his arms, he frowned. "What's wrong with you, little fellow? You have a warm place to sleep. You're almost dry now." He peered at it. "Are you hungry?" Glancing closer, Harold suddenly realized just how thin the tiny kitten truly was. "Why you're nothing but skin and bones! You must be hungry."
Harold considered this information for a moment and then sighed, rolling his eyes heavenward. Two years ago, he would have left the cat alone, reasoning that it wasn't his responsibility. But since settling in River City, he'd finally been given the opportunity to lower his guard and allow himself to care for others.
Marrying Marian had done a great deal in teaching him to put the welfare of others before his own. And when she had informed him a mere month ago that he would be a father before the year ended, he had discovered a side to himself even he never knew existed. Although he had always loved his boys and taken great pride in their musical and personal accomplishments – even more so when it was Winthrop – he hadn't realized just how much the idea of having a child of his own would affect him. Suddenly, he found himself contemplating what the future would hold for his family – late nights as he and Marian tended to a fussing baby, the joys of seeing their small toddler take their first steps and watching as those precarious steps progressed to running through the household. A small pair of arms greeting him with a hug when he walked through the door. Perhaps a son who favored him in looks and possessed his mother's honest heart. Or a little girl, he thought, and felt his throat tighten as he pictured the tiny blonde ringlets she'd inherit from her mother and bright hazel eyes following him in avid curiosity.
Impending fatherhood was making him soft, Harold decided. He smiled. He was getting soft, but he wouldn't have it any other way.
The soft mewling caused him to look down again, and the music professor sighed. He knew what he was contemplating went against his better judgment. But, he also knew was going to do it anyhow. Grabbing a towel, he ushered the kitten in his office and placed it atop the fluffy warmth then quickly exited, shutting the door behind him, his heart tightening as the plaintive cries resumed.
Donning his coat, he darted through the Emporium's front door and ducked inside the Candy Kitchen, only a few doors down. The rain, which had steadily picked up throughout the morning, did a thorough job on Harold's hair, and when he came through the front door, Ed Langford looked up at him in evident surprise. Although Harold wasn't averse to stopping by for a phosphate – either with Marian or on his own – he didn't make a habit of doing so during the middle of a thunderstorm.
"Hiya, Professor, soggy day for a phosphate," he commented.
Harold knew he must look as self-conscious as he felt – a novel moment, indeed, but he mustered his nerve and gave Ed his best salesman smile.
"Now Ed, I know this is an unusual request, but I need a small dish of milk… or cream. Whatever you have."
Ed gave him a curious look, but after a moment he nodded and ducked into the kitchen. When he came back a few minutes later, he was carrying a small bowl, filled halfway with fresh milk. Harold gave him a grateful smile.
"That's perfect, Ed." He reached into his pocket. "What do I owe you?"
The confectioner waved his hand. "No charge, Professor."
Harold looked at him. "Are you sure?"
Ed grinned. "Funniest thing this morning. When I was outside, I kept hearing the saddest little cries and figured one of that stray's kittens must have gotten separated from its momma. But a little while later, when I went out to look, it had stopped." He gave Harold a knowing smile.
Harold chuckled and reached for the bowl. "Well, I can't say I know anything about that. But I'd be most appreciative if you kept this little visit between us."
Ed nodded, but inclined his head thoughtfully. "I'd be happy to, Professor, but just so you know, I happen to recall Mrs. Hill was awfully fond of cats when we were children." He winked and gave Harold a broad smile. "Just in case you might be thinking of making a permanent addition to the Emporium."
Harold shook his head. "Oh no, no, no," he quickly assured Ed. "This is just this once. It's raining, and the little guy looks famished. But as soon as it clears up, it's back outside for him, and he'll be on his own."
Ed smiled. "If you say so, Professor Hill."
"Indeed, I do," Harold laughed before opening the door and dashing back out into the rain.
Ed watched him go and then picked up a nearby cloth and began to polish the counter. A moment later, the sounds of his soft laugher echoed throughout the empty Candy Kitchen.
XXX
Harold was immensely grateful for the rain – the deserted streets ensured no one saw him duck inside the Emporium, milk saucer in hand. The moment he pushed the office door open, the little cat shot out the door but immediately halted when it spied Harold standing in front of him.
"My, my! You are quite the little spitfire, aren't you?" Harold chucked and stepped into the office. The kitten made a beeline for the dish as soon as Harold placed it on the floor, and in a moment, the sounds of his hungry lapping could be heard.
The little guy was hungry, Harold surmised. Feeling quite pleased with himself, the music professor sat down at his desk and resumed what he was doing, smiling as the kitten contentedly lapped at his unexpected meal.
Harold soon became engrossed in his work, shuffling through invoices and scores, but after a half-hour passed, he looked up, surprised by the lack of sound. Leaning forward, he glanced down expecting to see the kitten asleep on his floor, but it was nowhere to be found. He laid his papers down and walked to the doorway – no cat out there, either.
Now thoroughly curious, the music professor strolled through the Emporium, peeking in corners and boxes. A thought crossed his mind, and he scurried over to the tuba case from earlier. A smile bloomed across his face when he looked inside. The cat lay there, sprawled on its side, its little belly large, and fast asleep. Harold chuckled softly and shook his head.
"I suppose you can stay there until I'm through for the day," he murmured and returned to his office.
XXX
Several hours had passed when Harold finally stood up at 5 p.m. He stretched his arms above his head and leaned back in pleasure as his muscles loosened. He was pleased to note the rain had finally ceased. While he enjoyed a good thunderstorm as much as the next person, he certainly didn't fancy walking home in one. And with the rain gone, he could return the little cat outside with a clear conscience. He found the kitten still asleep in the tuba case. For a moment, he contemplated letting him stay, but common sense took over. Knowing he couldn't leave him inside the Emporium, the music professor gently scooped up the kitten and took him to the back door.
The cat yawned when Harold set him on the floor, and when the music professor opened the back door, it looked at the door and then to Harold.
"I have to go home now. It's time for you to go back outside," Harold told him, pointing toward the door.
The kitten merely blinked and stayed where he was.
Harold gave it a gentle push out the door and onto the wet grass. The cat looked at him for a long moment, almost as if silently assessing Harold's resolve. The music professor returned the look, firmly set on his decision.
"Shoo, little man."
Apparently deciding the bandleader was serious, the kitten loped away to the field behind the Emporium, disappearing into the tall grass. Harold let out a sigh and shut the door.
Well, there's your good deed for the day, Hill, he thought to himself. He wondered if he should tell Marian about his unexpected visitor. She would probably get a good laugh out of it.
Harold made a mental note to do so, but later, when he stepped through the front door and was greeted by an amorous wife who seemed intent on divesting him of his clothes, the thought slipped away, entirely forgotten.
XXX
The next morning as Harold made his way through the store and to his office, he heard the distinct sound of claws scratching against the back door. He had a pretty good idea what was causing the ruckus and, sure enough, when he pulled the door open, a flash of orange darted through the entry and toward the tuba case. Harold bounded after him and scooped him up, chuckling.
"No sir, little man. There'll be no Emporium for you today," he informed him, gently depositing him on the back step and closing the door.
A moment later, a plaintive and rather loud mewling filled the air. Harold looked pained, but didn't open the door. As the forlorn sounds continued for several minutes, Harold felt his resolve crumbling. Maybe if he let it in for a few minutes, it'd be satisfied and go on its way. Besides, he'd never get any work done with all that racket. With a resigned sigh, the music professor opened the door again and watched the kitten zip through again, making a beeline for the front room.
It was all well and good to have a kitten in the back area, but there was certainly no way Harold could have a cat in the showroom. Deciding it best to keep an eye on the interloper, he retrieved the tuba case and brought it to his office. The kitten watched the band leader place it near the desk and then glanced up at him, almost as if asking permission.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Harold asked and gestured to the open case.
Without hesitating, the orange bundle jumped inside and curled up contentedly, his purring echoing softly.
Harold shook his head and smiled. He supposed he ought to make a quick stop next door to see Ed before starting his day.
XXX
That afternoon, when the last student had left the building, Harold retreated to his office to resume balancing the store's books. Thoroughly engrossed in his ledger, he jumped when he felt something unexpectedly brush again his leg. He scowled when he looked down and saw the cat that he refused to name weaving in and out of his feet. Deciding him to be merely a harmless nuisance, he let it be, but as if reading his mind, the cat jumped to his lap and settled in a ball.
"None of that now," Harold warned, shooing him away. The cat merely yawned and closed his eyes, gentle purrs emanating from its tiny body.
The music professor sat for a few minutes, gazing at the kitten with a long and thoughtful look, before shrugging and resuming his work.
Later, when Harold closed up for the evening, he shooed his new friend outside, fully expecting to see him again the next morning.
The kitten did not disappoint him. When Harold opened the back door the next day, he was waiting for him. This time, there was no tuba case to greet him. Instead, a small wooden crate filled with towels sat behind the desk. The kitten was inside it in a heartbeat, burrowed beneath the fabric until only an orange tail remained visible.
"I suppose you'll want something to eat," Harold told the lump in the crate. A tiny meow floated up from the towels.
Harold shook his head and chuckled as he walked next door. When he stepped inside, Ed was waiting on him with a grin and a full bottle of milk on the countertop.
"I won't tell a soul, 'fess," he promised the nonplussed band leader as Harold plunked a nickel down.
Harold mumbled his embarrassed thanks and returned to the shop, certain Ed Langford was having quite the chuckle at his expense. Although he had never minded that sort of thing before when it came in the course of con, it was another thing entirely when it involved a tiny, orange cat.
As Harold watched the kitten eat, he pondered what he was going to do. He certainly couldn't continue feeding it. Marian would surely notice the missing funds if he retrieved milk from the Candy Kitchen every day, and that would inevitably lead to a conversation about why they were missing. He didn't mind Marian knowing he was harboring a kitten. After all, she was his wife and often saw his gentler side. But if Marian knew, her mother would know. And if her mother knew, the whole town would soon know.
Although Harold had shed his con artist veneer, he wasn't keen on the idea of all of River City knowing he'd developed a soft spot for a little stray kitten. No, the cat couldn't stay. That much was clear. But surely there was no harm in allowing him to sleep for a bit? Apparently, the kitten thought so as well. Leaping to Harold's lap, he curled up and drifted into slumber. Harold smiled and reached for a Sousa score. He would ponder the cat situation later.
XXX
The sound of pelting against the store's windows pulled Harold from his work. Glancing at his watch, he realized several hours had passed. It was almost closing time, he was hungry, and he needed to use the facilities. He felt the kitten move on his lap and wondered if he ought to allow him the same opportunity.
Going to the back door, he cracked it open and smiled in satisfaction as the kitten bolted outside to take care of business. Harold felt a flash of guilt as the rain fell upon the little guy. It seemed awfully unfair to leave him outside when it was raining. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to allow him to stay inside his office for the night. Just this once.
When the kitten bounded back inside, Harold picked him up and placed him in the wooden crate.
"Now you stay here." He pointed a finger at the cat. "In the box." The cat looked up at him with wide eyes. "Do you understand me, Philip?"
The cat blinked and Harold did, too. Philip. Where did that come from? He sighed. He had just named the cat. The cat he wasn't keeping.
A smile tugged on the corner of his mouth, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair before shrugging and embracing the inevitable. "Fine. You can stay. But I don't know how I'll ever salvage my reputation when word of this gets out."
XXX
When Harold opened his door the next day, he was greeted by pens scattered across the floor; however, the music scores remained untouched. He looked at the kitten through narrowed eyes and pursed his lips in annoyance.
Philip looked back, blinking steadily at him. They two "men" stared at each other for several moments, before Harold finally shook his head and began collecting the pens. Straightening, he placed them back on his desk and bent back down to retrieve one he missed. As he did so, a pen fell on his head. He looked up and spied Philip happily batting them away again.
"Oh no, you don't!" he protested and quickly scooped them up and dropped them in a drawer. Philip's ears flattened at this brazen disruption, but Harold was unperturbed.
"I don't care if you like or not. Pens are not cat toys," he said in his most authoritative voice. But then he stopped, thoughtfully surveying the office, before snapping his fingers an idea hit him. "That'll work!"
He ran out of his office to the front counter and rummaged through a bin until he found a large spool of gold braiding. Returning to his desk, he found Philip lying next to the sheet music, eyeing it mischievously, but leaving it alone all the same.
Harold grinned. "Well, you're smart enough to leave the scores alone. That's something, at least," he chuckled.
Unraveling the spool, he let the gold braiding fall to the floor. Philip, instantly intrigued, leapt to the floor, and pounced on the string, rolling to his back and batting his paws back and forth. Harold smiled.
That should keep him occupied for a while, he thought in satisfaction.
XXX
"She's bound to notice, Philip. It's been two weeks now, and Marian's an intelligent woman. Any day now, she's going to realize the milk supply is dwindling faster than it used to. She's already discovered her thick wash towels are missing. It's only a matter of time before word gets out."
The orange kitten blinked solemnly at Harold from his perch on the edge of the music professor's desk.
"I don't know how long we can keep everyone in the dark about this, old boy." Harold shook his head. "Maybe I could work out a deal with Ed. He's been asking about putting his nephew in the band. Perhaps he'd trade milk for lessons." Harold rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You know, that just might work," he murmured and began to scribble in his ledger. "I'll make a note to ask him about it."
"Is this a new student of yours, Harold?"
Harold's pen clattered to the desk and his papers scattered to the floor as the music professor pushed his chair back and bolted to his feet, startled to find his charming wife standing in the doorway with an amused smile.
Philip, on the other hand, unfazed by her unexpected appearance, zipped over to the librarian in delight and began weaving around her feet.
Marian seemed thoroughly enchanted by his friendly demeanor as he stood on his legs and placed his paws on the front of her gown – as if telling her to pick him up. Marian laughed and shook her head. "Aren't you just a little dear?"
Harold's shoulders relaxed a bit. Philip was working his charm on the librarian and she was falling for it – hook, line and sinker. Harold briefly wondered if he should've incorporated a cat into his schemes back when he was still riding the rails. He might've missed a veritable gold mine. He wondered how hard a smack that observation would earn him from his wife and then decided he'd best wait a while before asking.
Coming from around his desk, he leaned down and gathered Philip, depositing the cat into his wife's outstretched arms. A grin split his face when Marian began to cluck over the ginger lothario and bestow affectionate kisses on the top of his head.
"Oh you are a darling, aren't you?" she cooed. When Philip settled in her arms and began to contentedly purr, Marian looked up at Harold and gave him a pointed look. "Now I know where all of our milk has been going lately."
Harold's eyes met hers, and he grinned sheepishly. "He was nothing but skin and bones when I found him, Marian. I couldn't let the little guy starve." He shrugged. "Besides, I thought he would be good for mice."
Marian considered this with a barely-concealed smile. "Ah yes, mice. I see." She paused and then ventured, "And when did we begin having problems with mice at the Emporium, darling?"
Harold struggled to find an acceptable answer. "See? Philip is already doing a terrific job," he offered loftily.
Marian's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Philip? You named the cat Philip?"
"Well, Sousa sounded over-the-top, even for me," he laughed and then continued, "And I didn't think he'd particularly care for the connotations of John," he grinned, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
Marian scolded him with a scandalized look. "Harold!"
Harold continued to explain. "Well, if he's going to be the band's unofficial mascot, then he ought to have a proper name."
The music professor watched Marian valiantly try – and fail – to suppress her smile. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What's so humorous?"
"It's worse than I thought," she finally managed around her light laughter.
Harold looked at her, perplexed. "What's worse? I don't understand."
"Philip," Marian explained with a smile. "He's adopted you."
"Adopted me!"
Marian merely nodded. "Oh yes, that's how it works, darling."
Harold frowned. "I have not been adopted by a cat."
"I daresay you have."
They stood and looked at one another for a few silent moments. Philip seemed to sense it was his moment and began yowling, reaching his paw toward Harold. Marian bit her lower lip, but couldn't contain the twinkle in her eyes. Harold looked at his amused wife and then back at Philip.
"You're not helping my cause here, kid," he told the cat, but reached out to take him in his arms anyway. Philip immediately settled down and began to purr again, his eyes closing in contentment.
Marian watched all of this with a wistful smile, her eyes softening as she witnessed Harold's tender smile. He watched her step close to him, confusion in his eyes as she neared. With a tender look, she leaned in and captured his mouth in a kiss, her lips moving over his. He almost lost his balance when her tongue sought entrance to his mouth and her hand slid behind his head, pulling him closer; however, he eagerly obliged her and they stayed that way for a few moments, their mouths moving together, eyes closed, the sounds of Philip's soft purring surrounding them. When Marian finally pulled away, Harold looked at her with dazed eyes.
"What brought that on?" he asked, pleasantly surprised.
Marian's eyes glowed with happiness. "I can't wait to see you with our child, darling."
Harold felt a happy warmth blossom inside him, and he gave his wife an unguarded and honest smile in return. He, too, was eager to meet their baby. Realizing there was nothing wrong in allowing Marian to see his vulnerable and compassionate side, Harold glanced down at the sleeping cat in his arms.
"I revise my earlier assessment, Philip. You're a pretty handy fellow."
"Honestly, Harold!" Marian scolded and swatted his arm.
"My apologies, Madam Librarian," he grinned as he returned Philip to his crate.
Marian didn't look convinced, but that didn't stop her from leaning in and placing a gentle kiss against his cheek.
"The librarian was hoping the music professor might be convinced to close early and join her for a treat at the Candy Kitchen," she informed him.
"Why yes, I think that could be arranged," Harold returned, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer for another kiss.
When they parted, Marian smiled and laced her fingers through his. "I'll send some blankets for Philip with you tomorrow, and after our treat, we'll go to the mercantile and see about getting him a proper saucer."
Harold looked at her in surprise.
"If he's going to be the band's mascot, he needs to have a comfortable place to sleep and a nice saucer," Marian explained.
"Madam Librarian, you are a lady from the ground up!"
Marian laughed. "I believe you've told me that before, Professor Hill."
"Well, it's true," he assured her. He glanced at his wife and then purposefully moved to the open door and closed it, giving the lock a quick twist.
Marian gazed at him in confusion. "I thought we were going next door for phosphates."
Harold sauntered back to the librarian and slid his arms around her waist, bringing her body flush against his. He heard her breath quicken and grinned wickedly. "Oh we will, but I thought we might satisfy another craving before indulging your sweet tooth," he murmured and brought his mouth to hers for a long kiss.