Harold Hill glanced up from the copy of Machiavelli's The Prince in which he was casually immersed just in time to see Marian Paroo return to the small island situated near the entrance of the River City Library. Her hands were filled with a small mountain of books – no doubt discarded by patrons and left on the many tables that filled the lower level of the library.

He watched, in amusement, as her glasses slid down her nose when she bent forward to pick up a novel that had fallen to the counter. Her slight frustration was almost imperceptible, and had she not shared her irritation over the eyewear with Harold earlier in the week, he might never have even noticed; however, she had, so he was well aware of the losing battle she was fighting with the small, round spectacles.

Early on in their relationship, he had questioned her about them. Having never seen her wear the glasses outside of the library, he was curious as to how necessary they were truly were. With a blush, Marian had smiled and admitted that even though she occasionally needed them at home when reading, going over a particularly-intricate piece of music or surviving the often-lengthy lessons with her better students, she usually avoided wearing them out of sheer vanity. Unfortunately, she conceded, it wasn't an option when dealing with the fine print of the card catalog or trying to peruse the daily book ledger. Harold was tickled by this revelation, but hated to think of her struggling simply because of uncertainty regarding her appearance, so he had a made a point to let her know that he found the silver frames rather alluring on her. After that particular comment, he had been pleased to find her wearing them more often whenever he happened to arrive early at her home while she was finishing a lesson.

Harold hadn't been lying when he had quietly informed Marian of her attractiveness. Observing her now – honey hair tightly coiffed, glasses perched on her nose and a no-nonsense attitude pervading her very essence this evening – he felt an all-too familiar longing well up within him. Although she might look every bit the respectable and stoic academic, he knew her well enough to realize there was a witty, often flirtatious, and more recently, ever-increasing confident woman behind the librarian persona she presented. A thrill shot through him as he realized that he was the first man to experience that delightful, yet often hidden facet of Marian's personality. It was quickly followed by the possessive thought that he planned to make certain he was the only man to ever be privy to it, as well.

It was November, and the weather had become chilly as fall drew to an end, making way for winter. As the weather turned colder, Harold had made a departure from his usual routine of waiting for Marian at the small bench that set just outside the library's double doors before escorting her to her home on West Elm. For the past week, the music professor had made a point to come to the library every evening an hour or two before closing time and situate himself at the table nearest her desk. Harold knew his appearance that first night had been a surprise to her, but later while walking home, her arm tucked beneath his, she had assured him it was a pleasant one. For his part, Harold enjoyed the opportunity to watch Marian as she bustled to and fro, listening to her interactions with her patrons and indulging in the occasional stolen glance when her attention was focused elsewhere. He especially enjoyed watching her traverse the spiral staircase which wound its way between the first and second floors.

The silent flirtation wasn't merely one sided, either. During the last two evenings after he had deposited himself on the bench facing her, he had been pleased to look up on occasion and find her watching him. Whenever their eyes met, he would grin and then watch, delighted, as a brilliant blush worked its way across her cheeks.

Tonight, as he continued to observe her futile battle, he was once again captivated by the sight of her. He smirked when Marian finally sighed in audible frustration and resorted to removing the glasses, laying the offending article on the counter beside her. He chuckled loud enough to garner a shushing from a patron across the way. When Marian glanced over and found him smiling at her, her eyebrows knitted together in consternation, and she shook her head at him in mild disapproval.

Harold, for his part, merely grinned back mischievously and casually mouthed, "Marshmallow?" and patted his jacket pocket. Satisfaction swept through him as the pencil Marian was holding dropped from her fingers as she registered what he said. A moment later, her eyes began to dance merrily and her mouth dropped open in silent laughter at his cheeky response.

Satisfied at coaxing a smile out of his little librarian, Harold returned to his book.

XXX

"Miss Paroo, a page is missing from this book."

Marian raised her head to see a small woman, who barely reached the top of the countertop, standing before her.

"I'm sorry, Miss Ida" Marian apologized, and laid her pen down to focus her attention on her diminutive patron who made a habit of visiting the library every Thursday, "You were saying?"

The elderly woman repeated herself. "Your book. It's missing a page."

Marian directed her attention to the volume Miss Ida was referring to and suddenly gave a small start when she realized which book she held in her grasp. There, situated firmly between her two wizened hands, was the library's only copy of the Indiana State Educational Journal. The tanned leather cover proudly touted the gilded words across its face. Marian felt her face flush immediately flush and desperately hoped the kindly spinster wouldn't notice.

Fortunately, she was too involved her own line of thought to notice Marian's sudden discomfort. "Yes, it's the most peculiar thing. I was leafing through the section on academic institutions and their founding dates – I'm trying to find out more about my nephew Herbert's school in Indianapolis. A fine boy, Herbert," she beamed.

Marian could only nod.

"However," she continued. "When I turned from Franklin University, I noticed the next page missing."

"Page 356," Marian instantly murmured without thought.

Miss Ida appeared surprised. "Why yes! That's it exactly!" She opened the volume and showed Marian. "It appears as if someone yanked it out in a hurry. You can still bits of it attached to the spine."

Marian wanted to melt through the floor. At the time, she had believed tearing out the page was the only option she had to prevent Mayor Shinn from learning the truth about Harold, so in the heat of the moment, she had carelessly ripped it out and tucked it into the waistband of her skirt; later, at the footbridge, giving her reformed love the thin sheath of paper seemed an utterly romantic gesture and so she had retrieved it from where it rested near her heart and gladly bestowed it upon him in a silent revelation of her love. Now however, in the cold reality of day, she quickly realized that she might have been a bit premature in her actions. Perhaps she ought to have thought her actions through a bit more thoroughly before acting so impulsively. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do about it now except muddle her way through the situation in which she presently found herself.

With a tinge of red still coloring her pale cheeks, Marian tried to affect a surprised laugh. "Well that is odd," she observed. Reaching over, she liberated the troublesome volume from Miss Ida's hands and tucked it away under the counter. "I can't ever imagine who would tear a page from a journal."

"Neither could I," Miss Ida agreed. "It makes you wonder what that page contained. Perhaps you should request a volume from the Indiana Education Board and see if we can track down the missing information."

"No!" Marian exclaimed loudly. Heads turned and she could feel the gaze of every patron on the lower floor leveled at her. Miss Ida stared, astonished at the usually-poised librarian's sudden outburst. Trying to collect her thoughts and get a reign on her racing nerves, Marian closed the journal and laid it aside. "What I meant to say was that there's no need to go to the expense and trouble of bringing in another journal simply for one missing page."

When the elderly woman continued to gaze at her concern, Marian stumbled on. "I'll simply write to Education Board and request that they reply with the information that page contained. It will be far less expensive," she explained in what she fervently hoped was a convincing manner.

Miss Ida appeared to consider this, and after a moment's thought, nodded her head in agreement. "That is an excellent idea, Miss Paroo. You will, of course, have to keep me informed as to their response. I'm eager to know what is missing."

Marian gave the older woman a grateful smile. "Of course I will. Thank you for bringing it to my attention," she said gratefully. As she watched her oldest and apparently, most observant, patron leave through the double doors, Marian let out a sigh of relief. That had been a close call. What could have possessed her to forget to hide the journal?

As she looked up, she caught Harold's fascinated gaze centered upon her and instantly wondered how much of the exchange he had managed to hear. Even from across the way, she could perceive the heated emotion in his eyes. His usually-beaming features were drawn into a serious expression, one that very few rarely ever saw. He had obviously heard every word of her conversation and from the looks of his furrowed brow, he was reflecting upon it. But when her eyes met his, his countenance immediately relaxed and she watched, mesmerized, as a sensual smile lazily worked its way across his face until he had completely captured her attention. As he once again captivated her with his searching eyes, a wry thought crossed her mind, and she suddenly knew exactly what had diverted her from stowing the journal when she had the opportunity those few months ago. Yes, she reflected with a smile – a tall, devastatingly handsome music professor had proved sufficiently distracting.