Stowe, Vermont
April 1945

Maria woke to the sensation of her husband's hand gently rubbing up and down the length of her bare arm. Groaning loudly, she tried to burrow further under the covers, stubbornly curled in a ball, but Georg would have none of it, for he was now burying his face in the crook of her neck, licking the hollow and humming sounds of contented pleasure. Arching her back as she twisted around to see her husband face-to-face, Maria blinked blearily up at him, clearing her throat.

"Good morning, Maria," he grinned devilishly.

Maria's response was thoroughly nonverbal, but decidedly more emphatic. She pulled a pillow from beneath her head and launched it at Georg, catching him hard in the chest; at this, he simply began to chuckle. Maria was ever only churlish in mornings and in need of waking when she had not slept as well as she might have, and those instances were few and far between. He had learned long ago not to take offense by it.

"Alright, alright—I get the message! I should know better than to rouse you!"

Climbing out of the bed, Georg located his dressing gown and tied the sash, leaning down to kiss his irritable wife's forehead on his way out the door, no doubt in search of his morning paper, coffee, and something light to tide him over until Maria rose to start the usual big breakfast for nine before the children all traipsed off to school or set to the day's work.

Upstairs, Maria dragged herself from beneath the warm covers, still not inclined to forgive her husband for his unholy cheerfulness at the early morning hour and obvious desire to play. It had not been very sporting of her, she thought, hitting him with that pillow, but today was a day where she simply needed her cup of tea and a large breakfast before she was prepared to be amiable company to anyone.

After reading a short passage from the Psalms, Maria shuffled her way into the bathroom, grateful that, of all things, an in-suite bathroom was part of the layout of this old, American farmhouse. It was more of a chalet, to her mind, of course in a very broad sense. But it had been the one defining feature of the structure that she appreciated the most when they had first viewed the property. In a strange and small way, it was a comfort to her, reminding her daily that not all had been lost, nor would things remain as bleak as they had once seemed. And indeed, life was good, here. America suited them. It suited her.

She missed Austria terribly, but the daily ache of longing for her homeland's beautiful mountains and way of life had lessened to infrequent bouts of melancholy, and she often talked herself into higher spirits by reminding herself that her husband and children had lost so much more; what's more, they were incredibly, unbelievably blessed.

Maria gazed at her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her teeth after a quick shower, thinking through all the things she needed to do that day. The boys would be waking soon to feed the cow and horse; she would start breakfast and spend a few uninterrupted minutes with a cup of tea and her husband reading quietly while she stared out the great windows, studying the mountains on the cusp of sunrise as she did every morning. Then, he would go to the gardens and she would clean up the breakfast spread before harnessing the horse and riding a few miles into the nearest town to work her half-day as a seamstress, Brigitta, Marta, and Gretl riding along with her. Liesl, Kurt, and Louisa both rode with Friedrich in his friend's car first thing after breakfast, as Liesl taught the first-year primary school children and Louisa assisted the town veterinarian with his patients. Friedrich worked as the junior manager at the lumber mill and occasionally leant his skills to the blacksmith if Kurt was having a busy day. Maria would buy anything necessary for dinner that night and be home in time to make a late lunch for her and Georg to share.

Today was washing day, as well, she remembered, wrinkling her nose. She did not mind washing, but with that came ironing, and Maria positively hated ironing. It was the one thing she could not throw herself into with a cheerful spirit, and she was already feeling positively drained. If only Friday weren't so close to Sunday, she could put it off for a few days…

Maria sighed, shaking herself. This wouldn't do! Squaring her shoulders, she tugged her brush through her long hair, taking no care with the snarls, and quickly twisting it up into her usual chignon. She really must find the few photos she had from her engagement and wedding and see if she could not replicate her pageboy-short coif. Her only excuse for the length of her hair now, which reached just past her elbows, was simply that it had been a low priority in the first year or two following the escape from Austria, and by that point it had simply been easier to pin it up in a twist or braid than to try to find someone who would give her the outrageously short style without gawking at her stupidly when she tried to indicate to the best of her abilities what she was expecting of the look. That she had not succeeded in this venture was due not to her lack of sufficient nerve, but rather due to her lack of trust that she would receive what she asked for.

She did not think it was a matter of her English skills, either. Her English was, quite frankly, excellent, and she had surprised even herself with the ease to which she adjusted to using the language as an actual speaker and not just as a student attempting to recite passages by rote. It was simply that American hairdressers were just as agog at her wish for short hair as Austrian noblewomen were. Perhaps she would simply visit the local barber, Tony. He would finish the job, no muss no fuss, and he would do a nice job of it—he always made sure Georg retained his clipped, crisp hair without taking away from the full body and wave of it. For the first time this morning, Maria quirked a smile. How she loved to toy with his hair! She could happily run her hands through it for hours, and often did…

Maria grabbed her chemise from where it was hanging on the back of the bathroom door and pulled it over her head, hurrying to dress. She could hear the children beginning to move about on the floor above.

"Tea, Georg?" Maria asked some ten minutes later as she swept into the kitchen, laying a gentle hand on her husband's shoulder as she passed. "Or would you prefer more coffee?"

"Coffee, if you please," he said, looking up from his paper to glance at the shoulder Maria had touched just a moment ago. "Are you well, love?"

"Yes, quite," Maria assured, rummaging about in the cupboards to find her kettle and the frying pans. "Nothing particularly out of the ordinary, just a bit off-kilter this morning." Finished filling the kettle, which she had found hiding behind her favorite pots next to the stove, she placed the stopper in and glanced over her shoulder at Georg with an apologetic smile. "I did sleep well, for what it's worth. I just wish I felt more rested."

"Ah," said Georg, nodding sympathetically. He got to his feet, abandoning his morning papers and coffee to slide his arms around Maria and greet her properly. Placing kisses on the nape of her neck, he murmured, "I forgive you for the slight I received just a bit ago by your hand."

Maria flushed at this, turning around in Georg's arms so that she could look at him. "I am sorry. And I'm sorry that you wanted to have your fun and I was far away from that. Even if it weren't for my mind's inner protestations at carrying on with life as usual, I was rather attached to the dream you woke me from, darling."

"Mmm, and what was that?"

Turning back to the eggs that needed cracked and beaten for breakfast, Maria smiled deviously. "Oh, a bit of this and that, nothing appropriate for our children to overhear."

Georg cocked his head at this, realizing that indeed, there was the telltale pounding of feet as seven children exited their bedrooms, shut their doors, and made for the stairs. "You are beholden to me, Fräulein!" he chided. "In the interest of propriety, I shall release you of this obligation to tell me what you dreamt, but don't think I won't expect you to tell—you so uncharitably threw a pillow at me, hard, when all I wanted was to nuzzle my wife!"

"As if," Maria snorted, now chopping fresh strawberries to go alongside the oranges she had just halved to make freshly-squeezed orange juice. "Make yourself useful and take the heavy whipping cream out for the strawberries," she directed.

"What, Mother? What did Father want?" came Gretl's cheerful voice. The twelve-year-old dutifully took her mother's place at the stove, pushing the scrambled eggs about the pan as they cooked.

"Nothing, dearest," Maria said absently, shooting her husband a look. "He is merely being impertinent."

"Oh," Gretl said wisely. "Grown-up stuff."

Maria eyed her youngest, wondering if perhaps she had heard more than she was letting on. But she shrugged it off, concluding that it was good for their children to see and hear them expressing affection for one another, whether that came in the form of obvious displays or gentle teasing and bickering.

"If you could also butter the toast, love," Maria said, pointing to a stack of toast and the butter dish waiting on the table. "The cover for the eggs is on top of the stove, just turn the flame off and cover them so they don't get cold and become congealed."

"Yes, Mother," Gretl said happily.

A half an hour later, Friedrich entered the kitchen with a pail of milk, warm and foaming. Brigitta took it from him and poured it out for those that typically took milk with their breakfast, quickly skimmed the rest, and the family assembled at the table, exclaiming happily over the large pan of eggs, the bowls of strawberry with heavy cream, a light cheese, and the sausages. Georg said the blessing, and everyone tucked in heartily. Breakfast had not been totally Americanized, but it was typically a happy mixture of traditional Austrian fare and some of the most agreeable aspects of American breakfasting. Maria and Kurt ate the most ravenously, as usual, and when everyone had eaten their fill, nothing was left.

"The best part of having a large family," Maria said with a warm smile, "is there is scarcely much to 'clean up' at the table after a meal!"

The children all laughed at this and nodded their agreement, downing the last of their coffee, tea, orange juice, or milk before beginning the mad scramble to deposit their dishes in the sink and hurry off to prepare for the day ahead, or in Friedrich, Kurt, Louisa, and Liesl's case, leave for work.

"Marta, I want to see your figures before we head off to school," Maria called after her second youngest, "and Gretl, make sure you have your essay packed and your name on it!"

A chorus of "Yes, Mother," was heard from the hall. Maria shook her head, feeling much better for having had her tea, a small chat, and breakfast. These children really were the light of her life. It seemed only yesterday that she had arrived on their father's doorstep and met them for the first time on the end of a boatswain whistle and nothing but a horrid dress and sheer incredulity. She still had that gray dress folded away in her wardrobe, typically reserved for renovations to the farmhouse or painting or a trek through the mountains. She wasn't particularly sure why she kept it, beyond obvious sentimental reasons: they all, herself included, hated it, but laughter abounded on the rare occasions that she did don it.

Today, she had chosen to wear one of her favorite dress suits from her original bridal trousseau, a fine, medium-weight navy blue creation that was both appropriate for the cool, wet mid-April weather and the height of professionalism and an example of good craftsmanship, something which aided Maria well in her job. Though she herself had not made the dress, the design had been her idea, and its appeal as smart and sharp seemed to reach quite far. The governor's wife herself had ordered a wardrobe made by Maria several years prior. Oblivious to the honor, Maria had been happy to oblige, though she put a limit on how many large orders she would take in any given year. She had plenty at the house to take care of!

The revenue her work brought in those first few years, though, had very well financed a large portion of their life and subsidized the relative comfort in which they lived. Georg had been able to salvage some of the family fortune—enough to journey across land and sea—but the majority had been frozen as soon as it was clear that he would not cooperate with the new regime operating in Austria and Germany.

The goal had been, once, to be as inconspicuous as possible, but Maria and Georg both realized that notion to be absurd, particularly with seven children in tow. So, somehow, they did their level best to integrate seamlessly into their new life and had reached a certain threshold of success. Life was comfortable here. Safe. They had friends. No political enemies. A future.

"I say," a loud, grating voice rang out, "that man is simply dishy!"

Jerked out of her reverie, Maria grimaced, replacing the bolt of fabric she had been examining, a deep silk burgundy, and turned to look out the window. Meddling Mrs. Roberts had arrived for her measurements and a third fitting, and the object of her quite inappropriate affections was, not surprisingly, Georg. The loud, pushy woman was nice enough, and meant well with her words, but if Maria felt she sometimes had no stopper for her own mouth, this woman was more a waterfall than a bursting dam.

"If you could step into the fitting room, Mrs. Roberts," Maria said quickly, watching her husband mount the steps as she took the mousy, plump woman by the shoulders to direct her. "I'll be with you momentarily."

Removing her apron, Maria hurried to greet her husband with a quick peck on the cheek and then led him out to the storefront. "Is everything alright?" she asked, brow furrowed.

Pulling a telegram out of his jacket pocket, Georg handed it to her. "I thought you should see this, so I drove up, hoping you might be able to get away early today."

Glancing at her husband as she unfolded the note, Maria said, "Even if I could, there is still the cart and horse."

"The girls can manage," Georg said shortly.

"Oh," Maria said, eyes widening as she read the short missive. It was written in German. "When must we leave?"

"Now. Leave a note for Marta and Gretl with Mrs. Higgins."

Maria swallowed. Alexandra Higgins, the owner of the dress shop, was a wonderful and kind woman, but she took her craft and business seriously, rarely allowing Maria to leave early. There had been a few occasions where Georg himself had groveled for her permission to whisk Maria away, and he had not been consistently successful. Of course, she would impress that this was an emergency, but Lucille Roberts was waiting in the back and would doubtless make a stir.

"I'll telephone her now."

Ten minutes later, Maria had summoned her employer to the shop, placated Mrs. Roberts with a new selection of materials to busy herself over, written a note for her daughters, and gathered all her things. Georg beckoned her to him and they hurried to the car, Maria still pinning her hat securely as they went.

"If you could please stop wriggling, Mrs. Roberts," said Alexandra Higgins, a bit sharper than most would deem necessary, "I can finish much faster."

"Hmmph," Lucille Roberts huffed, "this place certainly took a turn for the better when that dear little baroness arrived here, and that's saying something, as the selections have gone downhill with this dreadful war on. Why was she off in such a rush?"

"I haven't the faintest," Mrs. Higgins lied smoothly. "And even so, it is none of our concern."

The seamstress and proprietress, a widow in her early fifties, would have loved to say "your concern," but the steely woman was aware that it would be a fast way to lose a sure customer, and annoying as she found this nosy, overbearing woman, her limitless spending did much to supplement the shop's success. Pushing a lock of her gray-streaked chestnut hair behind her ear, she grabbed more pins and continued to adjust the hemline of the flashy cocktail dress; it was to Maria's credit that the gratuitous design even flattered the woman wearing it at all.

Indeed, she did know why and to where her best seamstress had gone, but the information was sensitive and uncertain at best, and she only knew enough to supplement the youngest von Trapps' questions when they arrived to collect the horse and cart at the day's end. And no doubt their mother had left more in the note behind the counter, which Alexandra had recognized as being dashed off in their native German. More in the interest of time than privacy, she knew, but all the same, it was smart.

"You know, I have wondered if she is barren, as it is obvious the dear Captain has no issue siring children!"

Goodness! The insufferable gossip was still talking, and about ever more private matters. Sighing internally, Alexandra shook her head, saying in a clipped tone, "I daresay it is more a choice they made in these uncertain times. And at any rate, I am glad not to have her in and out of here every year with a babe in arms and a child at her skirts. She is well-liked and does excellent work."

"Oh, but I know you are an old softie at heart, Lexie! You would love it to have a few little ones brightening this place up!"

"I was not aware that there was anything lacking in my establishment," Alexandra said, raising an eyebrow as she attempted to steer the conversation away from Maria von Trapp. "And considering there is a war on, it is a miracle we could even obtain the materials to make this," she gestured to the flashy, sequin-adorned, knee-length party dress, the silk top adorned with painstaking patterns of fake jewels and chiffon skirts all a horrible mustard-yellow color. "And do not call me 'Lexie,'" Alexandra said waspishly.

"Yes, well," Lucille sighed heavily, ignoring Alexandra's irritation, "I don't suppose you know where I might find a good pair of stockings to compliment this?"

Rolling her eyes, Alexandra muttered, "Maria told you as well as I could: if this were New York, it might be possible to find something, but if you haven't any forgotten old pairs stashed away in good condition, I'm afraid you are out of luck. We won't likely be getting any stockings until the war ends. You should have heeded her suggestion for a longer skirt if you have any immediate plans for this."

"It's just that this town is so dull and lifeless, and I simply wanted an excuse to escape for a while. Joshua will be returning for my birthday, and he wants to stay in Annapolis. Said something about a girl there."

"Seems like a bit of a drive with limits on the gasoline," Alexandra observed.

"Oh, I rarely drive these days, anyway. We have quite a bit stashed away in the barn for occasions such as this."

Alexandra blinked, somewhat troubled by the fact that Lucille Roberts drove herself everywhere, thought of this as nothing, and kept flammable war necessities in a barn, of all places. This was one moment where she was absolutely certain that the woman was not only oblivious and daft, but a stupid old cow. How Maria kept her good sense around her was a mystery. Alexandra prided herself on being the picture of decorum and good grace, but any amount of time around Mrs. Roberts invariably drove her to her late husband's Scotch whiskey stores.

"Now that I think of it, perhaps that youngest child is Maria's… they certainly resemble one another."

Really! This was madness. "Be that as it may, Maria is just thirty years old. Gretl is thirteen." Snipping the bit of thread she'd been working with to baste a temporary hem, Alexandra rocked back onto her heels, looking up at her client. "Well, Mrs. Roberts, I think this is all I need to finish the dress. Either Maria or I will call you to pick this up, unless you would like to wait until we have finished your new suit, of course."

"If you think it will be done before the first of May, then I will wait," Lucille nodded. "I will write your check up front."

"That is fine," Alexandra nodded, gathering her materials.

The seamstress had only just seen Mrs. Roberts out the door when Marta and Gretl von Trapp entered the shop, faces clouded with obvious confusion.

Marta said, "We were on our way home and saw Wolfgang still tethered around back. Is Mother alright?"

"Yes, she is fine. Your father picked her up around ten o'clock this morning in the car. She left you a note and asked me to make sure you girls manage to take the horse home alright. I can call Friedrich and have him drop off Kurt, if necessary." She handed Marta the note, and the girl read it, with Gretl looking over her shoulder.

"No," Gretl shook her head. "Thank you, though, Mrs. Higgins." Her eyebrows were knit. "Did Mother say anything else?"

"Just that they were heading to New York to fetch a Mr. Detweiler."

"New York!" Gretl exclaimed. "They surely won't make it home tonight! That's nearly six hours away!"

"No, I don't think so, either," said Alexandra. "She said to assure you that they will telephone as soon as they know more."

"Detweiler," said Marta slowly. She referenced the hasty note again. Nothing telling. "Wait," she said, turning to her sister. "Remember those programs from the Salzburg music festival?" Marta kept her own copy stashed away in a tin box under her bed.

Comprehension dawned on Gretl's face. "Uncle Max!" she cried. "We must go home immediately! What if we miss Mother's call?"

"I wouldn't worry about that," Alexandra assured, shaking away her sleeve to check her watch. "They likely won't even arrive in the city for another hour, and it will take time to sort out whatever has happened."

Gretl nodded, but looked antsy all the same. Clearly, she was not to be persuaded otherwise.


Salzburg, Austria
September 1937

"This is it," said Georg, cutting the car engine.

Maria took a steadying breath, gazing out the windshield and up at the side gates to Nonnberg Abbey. "This is it," she echoed. She did not want to leave his side. It pained her, and she said so.

"We shall be married tomorrow, my love," Georg smiled, stroking a thumb along his betrothed's jaw. "Not long now. Just an evening and a night and then morning will come, and I will take you as my wife with God as my witness, Maria. You will be Baroness Maria von Trapp. Nun-in-training Maria Rainer no more."

Maria smiled weakly at this. It was a sweet attempt to comfort and reassure her. The preceding weeks had gone much better, and she felt she had a better hand on everything that was happening. But she still felt as though she was hopelessly out of her depth. Perhaps the only thing convincing her that this marriage was not a huge mistake was the way her heart would pound every time she set her eyes on Georg. How her breath would catch every time he touched her. How her stomach would flutter every time he spoke to her. How she felt utterly safe and warm and loved every time he murmured an endearment meant only for her.

It would simply have to be sufficient. There was time enough to learn.

"I think I gave up my claim to cloistered life when I fell into your lake," Maria murmured, leaning in for a kiss.

"Mmm, yes, that was likely your point of no return, darling," Georg agreed, taking her face in his hands.

The kiss began gentle and chaste, deepening slowly but surely, until there was no space left between them and Maria's chest was heaving. She withdrew from the intimate embrace with reluctance, wishing back the nights where they whiled away the hours in his study or on the verandah, talking and kissing and occasionally necking with nothing imposing upon their activities but their own sense of decorum and propriety.

"Something to look forward to," Georg said huskily, taking Maria's hand in his own so as to escort her to the gate.

They slid out of the car from Maria's side, and it was when she turned to pull the gate shut and locked behind her that Maria responded at all.

"I look forward to everything you have yet to teach me with some trepidation, Georg, but it is outweighed in spades by my own alacrity following that very generous good night." She smiled, a sparkle returned to her eye.

Georg gazed upon the woman who was to be his wife in less than twenty-four hours, and with dusk upon them, she was beautiful, and he felt he could not possibly love her more. Every misgiving he had had seemed to be nothing in light of this return of her teasing wit and playfulness. A playfulness underlined most boldly by a clear indication of amorous desire. It was… heady. How she managed this, he would never know. For a time, he thought she simply was oblivious to her charm, and to an extent, she was. But she was also a woman, one with an awakening sense of self in terms of her own femininity. She had learned to seize what little moments she could to revel in that.

Those moments when she was testing those waters and growing bolder in them were perhaps the most comforting to Georg, not only because of the effect she had on him, but because it showed him that Maria had not completely abandoned her personality to fear and feelings of total inadequacy in the course of planning their wedding. She was certainly not entirely collected now, but he had weeks upon weeks to bring her back to herself, show her just how strong she was, show her how loved she was, and how absolutely essential she was to his existence, without the presence of issues like some of his children's seemingly sudden reticence or Salzburg's upper crust of socialization and its perils.

The problems with the children had not precisely improved, and the wedding party had been altered somewhat to reflect that, but after speaking with the embittered parties, Georg was convinced that time apart would prove the best cure for the strained relationships amongst his angst-ridden sons and somewhat tepid middle daughters with regard to Maria. Distance would be literal, and space aplenty. He and Maria would forge their bond as spouses with nothing impeding, and the children would have several somewhat… lax weeks with Max in which they could sort out their own problems. If anything residual remained, he and Maria would address it accordingly after the honeymoon.

And as a man who so desired his intended, as far as he was concerned, his children could stuff it. He cared about them, loved them, and wanted nothing more than for them to be happy, but it was not for them to dictate who he could and could not marry. And truthfully, the reality was that if Maria had remained in his employ with Elsa gone, a scandal surely would have brewed, far worse than what it was currently, and then where would they all be? It simply would not do.

Had Georg been a different man, or even a younger man, he might have happily taken Maria for his mistress, but he had a world of change between that time of his life and now, and he had learned to cherish what he held dear, having paid a rather extraordinary price to learn that lesson. He would not dishonor Maria simply because his children felt they had a superior claim over her. When he had needled Kurt for an explanation of his atrocious and hurtful behavior toward Maria, it had come out that the boy did love her, and had often found himself wishing Maria would be their mother, but seeing his father take a claim over her so swiftly had made him feel as though he suddenly did not matter.

That the family had been on numerous outings together, fully inclusive, before that unfortunate outburst in the study, had been to no effect. Kurt simply felt the way he felt, and it was something he would need to work through on his own. Louisa did not precisely express dissatisfaction, but she was unreadable as ever, wrapped up in herself, as she often was, and not willing to be coaxed into talking about her emotions and feelings. Friedrich, meanwhile, seemed to have developed a bit of a crush on Maria, and now that she was to become his mother, he was having difficulty processing this as his new reality. And perhaps the most surprising discontented party was Brigitta. Her affection for Maria was unquestionable, but she was not convinced that Maria simply wouldn't take off again if the going got rough.

Maria had handled that issue most exclusively, spending great amounts of time with the girl doing nothing particular—sometimes to Georg's immense disappointment, as their time together was already limited—but in the last few weeks, Brigitta seemed more confident, self-assured, and contented with the state of affairs. If that was the price he had to pay for restoring some of the familial harmony, so be it… tomorrow night would mark the start of eight glorious weeks alone, just he and Maria.

And, oh, what plans he had! They would spend the wedding night and following night in the Hotel Sacher, then board the train to Paris, where they would take up residence in the Hôtel de Crillon and quite hopefully never see the light of day.

He would, of course, escort Maria to various events, concerts and the occasional soirée and the like, but mostly he simply wanted to stay shut in a room with her, doing unspeakable things that the world could not possibly imagine when they gazed upon the von Trapp duo. If their engagement provided any inkling for how she would respond to such ministrations, Georg felt supremely confident that his fiancée was no shrinking violet and would, in her words, respond with "alacrity."

Alacrity, indeed.

It might very well be the key to unleashing her confidence once more. He looked forward to it with relish.

"Mazel tov, Maria," said Max warmly. "My many congratulations." He kissed her hand, then leaned in to kiss the smiling bride gently on each cheek. "You fill your shoes better than you know, and you look ravishing."

"Thank you," Maria returned, feeling comforted for Max's praise. She was not quite sure how it had happened, but she and Max had become fast friends in the past months, much to Georg's annoyance, but she was glad for it. For all that her new husband complained about his friend's many undesirable qualities, the friendship was deep and true, and Max's loyalty and affection had naturally extended to Maria.

Indeed, Georg had been worried when Maria and Max hit it off so splendidly that his old friend viewed her simply as a malleable tool to do his bidding and persuade Georg to go along with one of his harebrained schemes, but it soon became clear that Maria, while more willing to indulge Max in his crazy schemes than was Georg, could more than hold her own. This had, in fact, been Georg's first indicator that she was more than able to fill the role thrust upon her with aplomb and grace.

"Maria, I wondered if you might speak to Georg about my little idea, see if you can't butter him up a little."

"And to what 'little idea' are you referring, Max?" Maria asked, an interested but skeptical eyebrow raised. "You know how he feels about your attempts at coercion."

"The von Trapp Family Singers, of course," Max exclaimed. "You cannot tell me you do not see the potential! You know as well as I how talented those children are."

Maria was quiet for a while, appearing to consider the issue over her steepled fingers. Finally, she spoke. "I agree. There could be much gain from this family singing group. But I happen to know that Georg expressly forbids it, viewing the idea not only as gratuitous, but as an exploitation of his children."

"They seemed willing enough when I initially suggested it," Max wheedled.

"Yes, well," Maria countered, "since when do children know what would be best for them? Say the venture succeeded: they would become famous in their own right, not just proxies of their father's reputation. Most—no, all of them are too young to understand the trappings of fame. And if the venture failed, they would be simply crushed."

"I would see to it that every bit of potential is realized, Maria."

"Be that as it may, Max, you cannot honestly say that your motives are pure. That is what galls Georg most."

"At least I am honest that I am dishonest," Max muttered, becoming flustered under Maria's appraising gaze.

Lip twitching, Maria nodded in acknowledgment. "And we are both grateful for that. But the bottom line is that my fiancé, all other reasons aside, simply does not want his children in the public eye, and that should be reason enough."

"It just seems rather silly to waste such potential."

From his position outside the doorway, Georg could see that Maria's eyes had flashed dangerously at this statement.

"I think that I and Georg both have been sufficiently patient to explain why this is unallowable. Please don't test that, Max. You are too good a friend to him. And to me."

Max sighed, nodding his head. "I won't concede defeat, but I see you can't be swayed. I'll just find some other way."

Maria laughed at this, saying heartily, "Viel Glück, Max Detweiler. May your head remain intact on your shoulders for it!"

"I assure you, my dear, I am quite fond of my head!"

Yes, that had been the moment where Georg knew Maria could handle herself. He had seen more sophisticated, knowledgeable women fall to pieces under Max's seductive charm. If only Max knew how to use it to entice the right sorts, he might actually be a successful talent agent, and very wealthy for it. But as Maria had just shown, he still hadn't found the precise knack he needed—or circumstance, he wasn't sure which—to be consistently successful.

"Once you have danced with your Captain, I would be honored to be your next dance partner," Max murmured.

"Consider yourself penned in on my dance card yesterday," Maria grinned as Max was hustled along so as to keep the congratulatory line moving.

"I will hold you to that!" he cried before turning toward the hors d'oeuvres and champagne already flowing generously about the reception hall.

"You'd best hope he gets too drunk to remember that," Georg said to her under his breath, a wicked sparkle in his eye. "He is a horrid dancer."

"Don't be uncharitable!" Maria exclaimed, earning a laugh from the man she was simultaneously greeting.

"My felicitations, Baroness," the man said, "and trust the Captain's word on this! I have witnessed the atrocity myself. Fun to watch. Nightmarish to partake in."

Maria simply shook her head, smiling.

The day passed in a blur, as if someone had put it on a film reel and sped it all up but for a few choice moments. The first had been when Maria was sitting quietly in the chapel that morning while the sisters around her all prayed. She had knelt with them, but felt bound in an unbreakable vise, unable to think clearly or articulate much at all. The second was when she had looked up from her bouquet at the church gates and found Georg's gaze. Time had stood still, then, and suddenly the masses surrounding her were gone. He was all there was to the world. The third was when he had kissed her. Not so passionately as when he said good night to her yesterday evening, but intimate enough to demonstrate his claim on her, and his comfort in so doing. The fourth was when the familiar strains of the Ländler began and he took her hand, leading her through the dance, this time to completion. The world had simply fallen away. And the entirety of the reception hall had stopped what they were doing, breath bated, to watch the couple. The fifth, and final moment, so incredibly special to her, was a number the children had prepared to perform just for their parents.

Their song of choice was her beloved mountain Lied, which they had harmonized to perfection, and they had done a sort of reenacted dance, illustrating the song beautifully with each glorious line, from the life in the hills to the flying birds to the praying larks and babbling brooks. Each aspect was carefully considered, and breathtakingly executed. When the display ended, Maria found she had tears in her eyes, and Georg was holding her fast against him, warm and steady. The applause from the guests was thunderous. The hugs Maria gave were bone-crushing. The love she felt in that moment transcended every little problem that had plagued her in the past weeks, and it was the first time she felt truly contented, cut for the task ahead of her.

"I think we're in the clear, my love," Georg had whispered to her afterward, them both watching as the children dispersed into the crowd once more. "Of course, an apology and discussion might be nice, but…"

"For now, that was more than adequate," Maria finished with a nod. "I'm impressed that they kept that from us!"

"To be fair, we did spend a great deal of time in Vienna this past month."

"Yes, but Liesl was my chaperone, so it's not as though they had complete rein to practice with her gone."

"Perhaps all that time we thought they were shut up in their rooms, they were actually gathered somewhere planning this whole thing."

"The ballroom doors did seem to be closed often…" Maria trailed. "The foxes! Right under our noses!" But she was laughing, and accepted the champagne that Georg handed to her, toasting their children together.

"I shall have to thank Frau Schmidt for the idea to host the reception here in the Hotel Sacher," Maria said much later. "I cannot imagine having traveled home and then back here. She is worth her weight in gold."

"And I have to admit, I am glad she put a stop to my plans to leave for Paris immediately afterward, resentful though I felt at the time. This has been a wonderful day, love. And it shall be a wonderful night. We can afford to take our time, not be in any great hurry… and the tickets to Paris are actually an open date. Honestly, if you prefer to drive, we can even do that instead."

Maria blushed readily at her husband's somewhat uninhibited reference to their marital consummation soon to come, but she endeavored to reply. "As much as I like a long drive, we have spent so much time in automobiles of late… I think I should rather like to see this lavish suite you've booked for the train, Georg. I am curious!"

"That curiosity will get you into a world of trouble, Maria," Georg said seriously.

"Oh, I do not doubt it," Maria said, equally straight. "Nor do I find myself particularly caring."

Even with his mind somewhat clouded by alcohol, Georg gazed at his new wife in wonder, unable to process the unvarnished truth that it was he who had uncovered all this buried treasure that was her heartily flirtatious attitude. She had grown better at accepting his compliments, and had revealed myriad responses to such as she became more comfortable with it. Slowly, yet steadily, the full portrait was being exposed, and he was amazed.