At twelve o'clock on the dot, the main doors to River City High School opened. Tommy Djilas, who was dressed in a smart red-and-white uniform that won him several dreamy, admiring glances from Zaneeta, marched out to greet the crowd gathered along the edges of River City's main avenues. With a few grand flourishes of his baton, he signaled for the music to start. The two drummer boys flanked behind him, both bearing the solemn expressions of the focused performer, crisply tapped out the opening beats to Seventy Six Trombones. As the boys began their forward march and played their anthem's first boisterous crescendo, Professor Harold Hill made his entrance. Far from being overbearing, his ostentatious uniform and energetic manner added to the general splendor of the tableau, and the delighted River City-ziens burst into applause.
As the boys' band made their way toward the center of town, Harold playing up his role of bandleader for all it was worth, the crowd continued to cheer their progress. However, despite this extremely promising start, the music professor did not relax. Although he grinned and gamboled along as if he were on a spontaneous, lighthearted jaunt, his mind remained at least three scheming steps ahead, ever alert for potential issues and continuously refining his planned contingencies for them. So far, the weather was cooperating nicely; though the day was hot, there was just enough of a breeze to make being outside pleasant. But the sky continued to waver between being sunny and overcast – things were "chancy" outside, as Mayor Shinn would say. If the afternoon remained nice, Harold planned to lead the parade to Madison Park pavilion. If it rained, he would have everyone adjourn to a series of awnings set up deeper in the park.
But there were a few factors that remained outside the music professor's immediate control. To his chagrin, the boys still hadn't quite grasped the concept of marching in unison – in future rehearsals he would have to devote more time to emphasizing the importance of walking in a proper glide step. Even though none of the River City-ziens seemed to notice this defect – or if they did, it obviously wasn't spoiling their enjoyment of the parade – Harold knew the eagle-eyed Mr. Gallup would certainly pick up on it. Thankfully, the music sounded as polished as any played by a traditionally trained boys' band, which was the main thing – even the haughtiest musician wouldn't be able to find anything lacking in that department. Speaking of which, Harold wondered as he surveyed the crowd, where did that pesky reporter go?
The music professor was so busy scanning the path ahead for Mr. Gallup that he didn't immediately notice Marian's approach as the parade neared Madison Public Library. But when Harold caught sight of the librarian rushing toward him with that wonderful beaming smile, her joyful gaze fixed solely on him, he forgot about everything else but her. Marian had worn that lovely pink-and-white ensemble and set her hair in banana curls, just as he requested, and she looked absolutely stunning.
Taking his beloved's hand and entwining her arm with his, Harold gave her a sly grin. "I don't remember that hat."
Marian laughed with the coy but unmistakable delight a woman always displayed when her beau happened to notice her attire. "It's new – I saw it in a shop window last week and thought it would add a little something extra to the gown."
Although he continued to grin for the benefit of the crowd, Harold's voice was serious as he replied, "It's beautiful." He sneaked a sideways glance at her. "You're beautiful."
Marian's response to his heartfelt compliment was enchanting – not only did her head bow slightly as her cheeks crimsoned, her smile grew even broader and she gave his hand an affectionate squeeze.
After that little exchange, Harold's rational mind was in shambles. He tried to remain focused on the road ahead, but he had difficulty marshalling his concentration – one look at Marian, and his thoughts would scatter. She truly was the most alluring woman he'd ever met. And it didn't help matters that as the prim librarian fell in love with him, she came out of her shell; her necklines had gotten gradually lower over the past few months. But this generally only applied to her evening dresses; he had never seen Marian in such a revealing ensemble in broad daylight. Harold always relished the opportunity to see more of her lovely neck and shoulders, and today was no exception. Marian's pristine skin gleamed tantalizingly in the bright sunlight (the clouds had finally dissipated, but Harold was only aware of this phenomenon inasmuch as it affected the heavenly vision next to him). As such, the music professor's carefree demeanor was no longer a calculated act; marching next to the woman he loved, all he could do was grin from ear to ear and let the music and merriment of the crowd carry him along.
It wasn't until the River City boys' band came to Madison Park pavilion and concluded Seventy Six Trombones with a much more artful flourish than they had ended their prior performance in July – and Marian let go of his arm – that Harold was able to recover his senses. The first thing he noticed was Mr. Gallup leaning in a devil-may-care fashion against one of the pillars at the entrance to the park and watching the proceedings with a cool, impassive expression.
Harold intended to go over to the reporter as soon as he had finished motioning for his boys to disperse so the members of the school board could perform a song on the pavilion. But to his great shock, Marian beat him to it; he could only trail after her as she made a beeline toward the man who fancied himself a romantic rival to the great Professor Hill.
"Are you enjoying the festivities, Mr. Gallup?" the librarian asked in the manner of a benevolent hostess.
Mr. Gallup beamed at her. "I am, indeed," he said – though there was the faintest note of irony in his tone. "Tell me, Miss Paroo, what exactly is your role at the emporium?"
"She's my second-in-command," Harold interjected in a proud, booming voice as he stepped in between the two of them. "And quite the accomplished musician, herself. As I said earlier, her insights helped make the Think System the great success it is today."
Mr. Gallup's lips curled into a smirk. "I think the lady can answer for herself, Professor Hill."
Harold forced a laugh. "Who said she couldn't? But she can be quite modest about her talents, so I wanted to set the record straight."
"Gentlemen, I'm still here," Marian pointed out, her own mouth curving into an amused smile. "Feel free to address me directly at any time."
The music professor and the reporter immediately turned their attention back to the librarian. "Of course," they concurred, apologizing in unison. At that, the two men exchanged a wary glance, before Mr. Gallup went on, "Miss Paroo, I would love to hear more about your contributions to the Think System – in your own words."
As Marian talked in an animated fashion about her work at the emporium, Harold couldn't help scowling when he noticed that Mr. Gallup was appreciatively eying her low neckline as she spoke. Gloomily, the music professor wondered if it was too late to ask the librarian to wear her gold-and-green gown instead – perhaps once this tiresome interview concluded, they could snatch a quick moment alone together, and he could convince Marian to go home and change into a more conservative ensemble.
But that moment never came; Marian and Mr. Gallup's conversation was so bubbling they started to attract interested bystanders. Harold was further annoyed when the River City-ziens greeted the reporter nearly as warmly as they greeted him – the men smiled and nodded at his astute comments, and the ladies chirped and preened for him to pay attention to them. How in the world Mr. Gallup had managed to build such a rapport with the townspeople in such a short time, Harold couldn't determine – he hadn't been able to wheedle his way into River City's highest social circles this easily. Even worse, the music professor was gradually shunted to the side as more and more people clamored to insinuate themselves into the discourse session between the librarian and the reporter.
Marcellus Washburn, who had never lost his inclination to keep a careful eye on things from the sidelines, came over to Harold. "It's a good thing you arrived to town first, Greg," he noted with an amused smile. "Otherwise you might have been greeting the maiden-lady librarian as 'Mrs. Gallup'!"
Harold scowled at his former shill. "Just you keep your eye on me during the band's next piece, son. You think the parade was good? Well, you haven't seen anything yet!"
Refusing to play second fiddle to this foolishness any longer, Harold marched off to round up his boys for the band's second set.
XXX
As Harold took his place in front of the podium on the pavilion, he allowed himself a quick glance at the crowd. Unbelievably, the commotion around Marian and Mr. Gallup was still as thick as when he had excused himself fifteen minutes earlier – which intensified his irritation anew. While the librarian was free to fraternize with whomever she pleased, she was the emporium's second-in-command, and today's performance was crucial to the success of their business. As such, her first consideration should have been lending her moral support to the band's next performance by gracing them with her presence – not neglecting her duties to gad about with some silver-tongued flatterer.
But it would do no good to dwell on Marian's lapse at present – there would be plenty of time to discuss the matter later. Channeling his energy into an utter determination to triumph, Harold turned his attention to his boys – who gazed at their beloved music professor with an endearing mixture of trusting admiration and nervous excitement. Heartened by this show of devotion, Harold raised his baton, and the band struck up John Philip Sousa's Stars and Stripes Forever.
At that, the excitement surrounding the librarian and the reporter immediately dissipated – the River City-ziens now jostled each other for plum vantage points of the pavilion. Pleased that his band was at the forefront of the townspeople's minds once more, Harold grinned and motioned for Zaneeta and her baton girls to light their sparklers. The twirling flashes of light caused an instant sensation, adding delightful drama to an already-stirring crescendo of music as the boys approached the end of the first part of the march's trio. When Harold revealed the band's next move – a trumpet-spinning sequence during the second repeat – the applause was so thunderous that the melody from the lone piccolo playing the obbligato was completely lost amid the clamorous din. Wisely, Harold had foreseen this possibility and not planned any tricks for the third repeat; now that he had everyone's full attention, he preferred to let the music take center stage, and simply directed the boys to play the final refrain with all the heart they could muster.
Even after the march came to its conclusion, Harold didn't allow the crowd to elude his grasp for long. Pausing only to acknowledge the fanfare with a brief bow – and to note with a pleased smile that Marian was now standing only a few feet away from where he was conducting – the music professor raised his baton, and the band went into Seventy Six Trombones. After the excitement of the Sousa march, this rehash of sorts might have seemed a letdown, but Harold knew it would give the River City-ziens a much-needed interlude of respite; after so much stimulation, a familiar tune would give them the time they needed to compose themselves, while still keeping them focused on the band. Once again, his careful calculation of proper pacing proved impeccable – the crowd settled down just in time for him to demonstrate the band's next showpiece.
Nodding at his boys, Harold slowed his conducting tempo, and suddenly the rousing march of Seventy Six Trombones blossomed into the romantic melody of Goodnight, My Someone. After a few bars, Harold increased his pace until the band was playing Seventy Six Trombones again. Then, after another interval, he slowed back down into Goodnight, My Someone. After two more of these "quick to slow" interludes – a challenging piece to conduct, what with the constant switching between 4/4 and 3/4 time – the band ended on the original march.
Thus the second set concluded, and the River City-ziens made just as much of a rapturous fuss over the Seventy Six Trombones/Goodnight, My Someone medley as they had over John Philip Sousa's Stars and Stripes Forever. This time, Harold allowed himself to reap the rewards of a job well done; he grinned and gazed contentedly at the crowd as they cheered. He was further gratified to see that not only had Mr. Gallup secured a front-row seat to this grand spectacle, he was goggling at the music professor with a look of utter shock. It's about time! Harold thought, and sent a small but triumphant wave of acknowledgment in the reporter's direction.
But the real treat was seeing Marian's reaction. Although she had overseen nearly all aspects of the program for the parade and concert, Harold had wanted this number to be a surprise, and therefore kept the rehearsals for it a secret. So in addition to being as awed and elated as everyone else in attendance, the librarian gazed at the music professor with an expression of deep fondness, her eyes glistening in the same beautiful way as they had that warm July night he confessed he was too in love with her to flee River City. For Harold knew only Marian would realize the romantic significance of intertwining these two songs. It was his love letter to her, delivered right under the noses of the unsuspecting townspeople; even the clever Mr. Gallup would be unable to fully deduce just what the medley meant to the two of them.
But this wonderful moment ended far too quickly. Although Harold regarded his beloved with an ardent look in return, he soon became distracted by the sheer commotion surrounding them. Unable to contain their pride any longer, mothers were pouring onto the pavilion to hug their exhausted but ecstatic sons. Mayor Shinn rushed over to shake Tommy Djilas' hand and, ever the politician, began to speechify to anyone who would listen about his role in transforming this "diamond in the rough" into a town treasure. And, of course, people were starting to swarm around the energetic music professor whose revolutionary new system made all of this possible.
Acting quickly – he wasn't about to let her slip away as she had that night at the high school – Harold reached out and grabbed Marian's hands, pulling her to his side just before the crowd completely blocked him off from her. After ensuring the librarian's arm was laced securely through his, he turned and thanked people for their enthusiastic support of the band's endeavors – his trademark grin broadening even further when he felt Marian give him a furtive, affectionate squeeze. Sneaking a glance at her, Harold was charmed to see that her expression was one of blushing delight – making him long to take her in his arms and plant several kisses on each of those gorgeous crimson cheeks.
But there would be plenty of time for that later – he would make sure of it. There was still a whole host of festivities to look forward to, including a delectable al fresco luncheon the ladies of the Events Committee had set up in the field near Harold's emergency awnings. And, of course, he still had to put up with Mr. Gallup until the man finally boarded his train back to Des Moines. But perhaps the rest of the afternoon wouldn't be so bad – not only had Harold proved himself and his band to the skeptical reporter, Marian had made it quite clear with that loving look of hers just which of the two men she preferred as a romantic suitor.
Still, it was rather irksome to endure the reporter's perpetual presence. After an exhausting month of preparation and a long, nerve-wracking morning of conducting, all Harold wanted to do was retreat to a quiet corner for a little while so he could relax, partake in refreshment and enjoy a private tête-à-tête with the woman he loved. Mr. Gallup was a perceptive man; he should have had the decency to find a more welcoming place to eat his lunch. But the reporter unabashedly trailed after them, taking a seat right next to Marian on the blue gingham blanket Ethel had kindly loaned to Harold so he and his best gal could find their own picnic spot separate from the other River City-ziens.
Normally, Harold would have used his wiles to give Mr. Gallup the slip, but as the band still had one more number to perform, he felt it would be unwise to snub the reporter at this juncture. Still, the music professor didn't have it in him to turn on the charm as much as he should have, so his conversation was not nearly as sparkling as usual – even he had his limits. And it certainly didn't help soothe his steadily growing impatience to see that Marian bore the reporter's intrusion with a smiling graciousness bordering on sainthood. Throughout their lunch, Harold watched the librarian extremely carefully; not once did her eyes narrow, not once did she frown or lapse into one of her haughty glares, not once did she look the slightest bit weary or annoyed. On the contrary – Marian laughed and chattered with Mr. Gallup as merrily as she ever did with Harold. Either she was the consummate actress, or she genuinely enjoyed the man's interminable company.
When Mr. Gallup insisted on getting ice cream for the three of them – which wasn't as magnanimous a gesture as it might have appeared, since Ed Langford was generously providing dessert free to the attendees of this event – Harold seized the brief moment of privacy afforded to the two of them. Leaning closer until his lips were nearly brushing Marian's ear, he chuckled and said in a low voice, "I should've figured he'd finagle his way into eating lunch with us. I suppose discretion and tact are the first things to go when a man becomes a reporter!"
Although Marian simply laughed at this, it heartened Harold to hear the note of conspiratorial amusement in her voice. Lingering long enough to nibble at the curve of her ear in a playful but affectionate caress, he retreated to a more respectable distance as the still-giggling librarian attempted to give him a swat on the arm. Having gotten that nagging sense of uncertainty out of his system at last, Harold adopted a more gentlemanly demeanor, fully prepared to be a model of amiability when Mr. Gallup returned with dessert.
But his restored sense of exclusive camaraderie with Marian evaporated when Mr. Gallup inquired if she would be so kind as to open the library for him once she had finished with her ice cream. Giving the reporter a cordial smile, the librarian replied that she would be happy to accommodate him. Just like that. No declining, no demurring, not even a flash of concern in those honest eyes of hers. Harold couldn't believe it. Marian ought to have been aware that Mr. Gallup was much more dangerous than men like Mayor Shinn or even Charlie Cowell – with his irritating penchant for tracking down the truth, this reporter was more than capable of honing in on damning evidence that could destroy Harold's credibility. Although the River City-ziens esteemed and trusted him just as much as they ever had, people from other towns might be too skeptical to stake their children's musical educations on a curriculum developed by a former charlatan. If that turned out to be the case, Harold's fledgling business might not survive too many years past its promising beginnings; the emporium's potential for success would be tarnished if he couldn't eventually expand his operations and attract interested students from all four corners of the state and, eventually, the nation.
"Marian," Harold began, his consternation making him forget the wisdom of addressing her in a more proper manner around others, "are you sure there's enough time for that? I'm going to need your assistance to prepare for the band's final set."
"Of course," Marian smoothly replied. "But we still have at least another hour; lunch seems to be running late, and the Ladies' Dance Committee has yet to begin its own performance."
Harold would have continued to protest, but Marian flashed him a glance that belied her glibly unconcerned demeanor; for a split second, he swore he could see an almost desperately pleading look in her eyes. Trust me, Harold, her gaze seemed to say.
"Not to worry, Professor, I won't keep her for long," Mr. Gallup reassured him with a smile.
Harold nodded and, requesting them to return to the pavilion by quarter to three at the latest, he watched the woman he loved stroll off with the man who wanted to bring him down. Clearly, Marian wasn't as unaware of the danger as she pretended to be, but he still couldn't help wondering why on earth she was so readily aiding and abetting Mr. Gallup's attempted defamation of his character. If Harold could have gone along to chaperon without seeming suspicious, he would have leapt at the chance. But he was all schemed out; no decent alibis came readily to mind. Besides, it was high time he went to check on his boys – it wouldn't do to let them get too lax in their concentration before the band's final performance of the day.
XXX
When Marian and Mr. Gallup returned to the pavilion about twenty minutes later, Harold was ready for them. Roping the reporter into his grasp with a hearty clap on the back, he motioned for Mrs. Shinn and her ladies to join them. When he mentioned how Mr. Gallup was also a musician, the women immediately began cooing over him, pulling the hapless man deep into their web of endless prattle. Leaving them to devour their prey, Harold extricated himself from the conversation and, taking Marian by the hand, spirited her away to one of the awnings located deep within the park.
Once they were ensconced behind the safety of one of the heavy canvas flaps, Marian's demeanor became much more relaxed and she breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Thank heavens – a moment of peace!" she said, giving him a grateful look. "Oh Harold, what a day this has been! I thought I wouldn't be able to escape Mr. Gallup for at least another hour."
Instead of sharing in her exultance at being alone, Harold's annoyance increased. If the reporter's attentions were really so wearying, she could have found a way to extricate herself long before now. After all, she was an extremely clever woman who excelled at eluding unwanted suitors. Still, his heart couldn't help warming at her words, so he masked his true feelings with a congenial smile. "Yes… Mr. Gallup's managing to ingratiate himself with the townspeople worked in our favor, after all!"
Marian smiled at him in return. "That's partly your fault, you know."
Genuinely perplexed by such an idea, Harold raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh?"
She laughed, which irked him even more. "You mean to tell me you don't know? Since your arrival, River City has been much friendlier toward strangers."
Even though she said this in an affectionately teasing manner, he couldn't help remarking, "You've certainly been a lot more amiable than usual."
This time, it was Marian who raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?" she asked, her voice a touch cool. "Perhaps you're mistaking true amiability with polite cordiality. Besides, how can I avoid Mr. Gallup entirely? He's just as bad as you are when it comes to persistence!"
Marian was certainly excelling at saying all the wrong things this afternoon. Reaching the end of his forbearance at last, Harold snapped, "Well, maybe if you didn't encourage the man so much, you wouldn't have him following you around like a besotted lapdog!"
"What?" she gasped, sounding just as surprised and offended as when he confronted her about Mr. Madison in the library. His rational mind knew that Marian's baffled astonishment was just as genuine as it had been on that occasion – and was therefore strongly urging him to back down. But after a long and tiring day of having to grin while some snooty reporter attempted to dismantle everything he had built, Harold could no longer let go of his petulance.
"I'm simply speaking from past experience, Madam Librarian," he said cynically. "Who better than me knows just how skilled you can be at giving a man the brush off?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Harold," she said ominously, "if I were to snub Mr. Gallup, do you think that would bode well for the emporium's publicity? The last thing this enterprise needs is for an affronted reporter to write a critical piece about the Think System in one of the state's biggest newspapers!"
Feeling a strange, unpleasantly warm sensation in his cheeks, Harold realized Marian was absolutely right. Mr. Gallup had taking a liking to Marian – What man could help wanting her? he ruefully wondered – and this was a boon because it provided an opening for the music professor, a way to soften the skeptical reporter and win him over to their cause. Marian was simply playing her part to ensure the success of the Think System. The sensible, calculating part of him already knew all this. So what was it about the librarian that made him want to behave like a reckless, hot-blooded teenager?
Perhaps it was her maddening ability to knock him off balance at the worst possible moment. Just as Harold was about to concede defeat, Marian scowled and added, "Besides, I have no cause to be impolite to Mr. Gallup – he's been nothing but a gentleman. Just because he can be a bit tiresome doesn't mean he deserves to be treated with scorn – after all, it's not like he's trying to pull the wool over the eyes of the River City-ziens!"
Harold's humble apology turned into a heated tirade. "That's where you're wrong, Madam Librarian. In his own way, he's just as much of a conman as I used to be – he's willing to use any means necessary to get what he wants. You might think he likes you, but mainly what he's trying to do is flatter you and gain your trust so he can wheedle as much information out of you as possible to make his smear job of a story complete. That man has been against me and the Think System from the start, probably before he even stepped foot in River City! I've met those types before; college-educated snobs who think that the entirety of a man's worth is measured by a piece of paper." He pointed his finger at her, shaking it for emphasis as he spoke. "And if Mr. Gallup's company is really all that bothersome, Miss Marian, you could do a lot better to find the middle ground between cold scorn and effusive cordiality!"
In response, she reached out and caught his waggling finger tightly in her hand.
Harold goggled at Marian. He had been punched, kicked, roughed up and slapped, but no one had ever grabbed his finger mid-point – let alone a young woman he was romantically interested in.
"I've always wanted to do that," she said with quiet satisfaction.
Harold struggled to find a suitable reply to the situation. If he hadn't been so out of sorts, he might have found his condition amusing; it really was quite something how such a simple gesture could render him so immobile.
Still grasping his finger, Marian gazed levelly at him. "After everything we've been through together, do you really think I'd abandon you for the first flashy stranger who comes along? My head isn't so easily turned as you seem to think!"
Again, Harold felt his face grow uncomfortably warm. "Of course not – you're the last woman I would ever accuse of being fickle or flighty," he said in a subdued voice. But the librarian's pleased, almost triumphant, expression reignited his ire – why did she have to be so damn right all the time? – and he couldn't help adding, "However, I also know how charming men can be. Recall, if you will, how opposed to me you were when we first met."
Marian's smile faded; she let go of his finger and gazed at him with a deeply wounded look. For one awful moment, Harold thought she was going to cry, and he wished with his entire heart that he had let her win this fight. Nothing was worth hurting her – not even salvaging the remaining shreds of his tattered pride. "Forgive me, Marian," he immediately apologized, "I shouldn't have said that last part – "
Marian's stricken expression hardened into one of haughty coldness. "What's the difference?" she said sharply. "You still would have thought it. To you, all women are one and the same: weak and helpless against the wiles of men." Her shoulders slumped, and she let out a bleak laugh. "Well, perhaps you're right – in the end, I turned out to be just as infatuated with you as any other woman you've ever known."
Alarmed by her listless despair – not to mention her use of the term infatuated to describe her feelings for him – Harold belatedly tried to make amends. "Marian, you know I think the world of you, and I would never doubt your loyalty and strong moral conviction… " He trailed off when the librarian's face crumpled. "Oh no, darling," he tenderly pleaded, feeling his own features contort with sorrow as he reached out for her. "No… please don't do that… "
But Marian turned on her heel and fled before he could draw her into his arms.
XXX
A/N – I know, I know, bad place to leave the reader hanging! I am hard at work on chapter three, which will (should) be the final installment of this fic. In the meantime, for those who are interested in hearing the music that inspired this chapter, a recording of "Stars and Stripes Forever" can be found on Wikipedia (scroll down to the "Media" section and click on the play button for the 1909 Edison Records recording or the United States Marine Band performance. Harold's "Seventy Six Trombones/Goodnight, My Someone" medley is inspired by the overture on the Music Man 2000 Broadway Revival Cast soundtrack.