Before coming to River City, Harold Hill had never been one to worry. Oh, there were the occasional concerns, mostly centered around how he would manage to evade the law and escape town unnoticed, but it was his tendency to deal with these things as they came and put them quickly out of his mind afterwards. No good con could be pulled off without confidence– and the word was the root of the term, after all. Hesitating, fretting and stumbling were the hallmarks of a lousy swindler, being some of the very best ways of making oneself look suspicious. The kind of con men who worried were the kind who got caught, and Harold Hill certainly wasn't one of those.

But there was a price to be paid for having people and places and things that he cared about other than himself, and that fee was demanded in the currency of worry. On the morning of October 19th, 1912, Harold woke before dawn, his mind buzzing frenetically with nervous thoughts that precluded any possibility of getting back to sleep. While he was feeling fairly confident in how the band would perform today, the past few days had thrown him into turmoil, and too much was riding on this concert not to be worried. One of his chief concerns of the night before, that he himself would wake up sick, was easily dispelled once he awakened in perfect health, but it seemed that there was still so much that could go wrong. Not wanting to be bogged down by any last minute preparations, Harold departed for the Emporium in the chill of the early morning over four hours before the concert was to begin.

Standing alone in the auditorium, he couldn't help but think back to the makeshift "concert" he had led a few months ago in a high school classroom with a group of boys that couldn't read a note of music. Then, the matter of his life or death could have very well rested on that performance; it had been a test, set up for him to fail, to prove that he was nothing more than a despicable crook. Today would be a test as well, and, if all went well, a turning point in regards to his future in River City. During those bleak hours where he had thought the concert doomed, Harold had perseverated on thoughts of all the terrible things that could happen. This morning, however, he finally allowed himself to think hopefully about what this opportunity could bring him.

If the boys got up there and performed wonderfully, his status as a bandleader and a businessman would be permanently cemented. All the boys and their parents who had passed up his offer the first time would be jumping at the chance to buy instruments and become a part of the band, and membership could easily double. He could win the respect of the mayor and anyone else who still doubted his intentions, and, most importantly of all to Harold, he could become the kind of man who could propose to Marian. All he needed was to pass this one final test– a sort of entry exam into full-fledged River City-zienship – and he could at last feel that his future was secure.

The boys began arriving just before eleven, looking thrilled to be in full uniform for the first time since July. It wasn't long before all twenty-seven band members were assembled (even Linus, his broken hand bound, had shown up in solidarity), tuning freshly polished instruments and smoothing their gilded jackets and carefully-combed hair. All of them had recovered admirably from their ailments, and though there was a good deal of coughing and sneezing going on, they all appeared energetic and clear-headed. The room was noisy, yet oddly quiet at the same time – there was a great deal of activity, but very little talking. Harold surmised that much like he was, each boy was lost in his own thoughts, thinking of what he needed to do for the concert to go perfectly, fantasizing about the pride he would feel if it did. Anticipation was almost palpable in the auditorium; there was a hushed awe in the air, a heady Christmas-Eve-sort of excitement that spurred Harold's confidence and reminded him of what Marian had been telling him all along – he and the band were a team, and if he and the band both did their part, they would succeed.

After a quick run-through of their program, audience members were already starting to arrive, and it greatly relieved Harold to see that they did not glare at him in judgement as they had the last time they had sat before him like this, but appeared happy and relaxed, talking amongst themselves and occasionally trying to get the attention of their sons who were onstage. He was pleased to spy Marcellus a few rows back, sitting with Ethel Toffelmier and her sister and telling them something that was making them laugh hysterically. The only person who made his worries resurface was Mayor Shinn, who planted himself in the first row looking surly and humorless. Even Zaneeta and Gracie's bubbly chatter and Mrs. Shinn's scolding could do nothing to erase the scowl of disapproval on the older man's face. Harold simply gave the mayor a cordial smile and tried to remind himself that in short order, he would be able to prove to him that the band was every bit as legitimate as he had promised it would be.

And then he saw that Marian was there, sitting on the other end of the front row alongside her mother, and in his state of heightened emotions the sight of her was enough to take his breath away. Though her face was rather pale, she looked vastly improved since the day before, and Harold noticed that she seemed to have taken extra care with her appearance, wearing the same lacy pale purple dress that she had worn when he had taken her to the Fireman's Ball a couple of weeks ago. When their eyes met, she gave him that same sweet, encouraging smile that had sustained him on that night in July when he had been forced to conduct the band, handcuffed and disgraced. Marian believed in Harold, more than anybody else, and the thought filled his heart with gratitude. Knowing she was near was enough to dispel the last of his misgivings, and when he at last stepped out to address the crowd, he felt as self-assured as he ever had in front of an audience.

The concert went even better than Harold could have imagined. Although the performance was far from technically accurate, with the occasional squeaking instrument or wrong note marring an otherwise majestic melody, the sheer passion and spirit of the performers was undeniable. Parents who had been nearly moved to tears by their sons' shaky performances on that night back in July gaped open-mouthed in wonder what they heard today, and Harold suspected that many of them had not even envisioned the possibility of the band sounding so much improved. Even the most cynical person could not have denied the amount of practice and dedication that the band had put in over the past months.

The concert was rather brief after all of the build-up, as there had not been sufficient time for Harold to teach the boys an extensive repertoire, but on the final flourish of Seventy-Six Trombones, the entire crowd stood up in a rousing standing ovation.

As the applause began to die down, Harold made an attempt to speak, as he wanted to thank the boys for all of their hard work – and credit Marian for all of the help that she had provided – but to his complete shock, he found that Mayor Shinn had managed to slip onto the stage beside him and was clearly preparing for a speech of his own. Harold couldn't keep from feeling alarmed, even as he basked in his concert's tremendous success – certainly Mayor Shinn didn't mean to denounce him now, did he?

"On behalf of all River City, I would like to –"

"George!" Mrs. Shinn warned through clenched teeth. "You know that this is not the time or place –"

Ignoring his wife's admonishments entirely, the mayor simply raised his voice. " – would like to thank Professor Hill for orchestrating this – this orchestration, and would like –" at that, he extended his hand to Harold "– to warmally – to give him a form – to, er, officially welcome him to River City."

Confused but relieved, Harold shook the mayor's hand, unsure how to respond. The audience, too, appeared baffled; though they applauded politely, they exchanged uncomfortable glances and whispered amongst themselves.

"George, the man has lived in this town for almost three months," exclaimed Mrs. Shinn; beside her, her daughters trembled with barely-repressed laughter.

"I know that, Eulalie!" Mayor Shinn barked, indignant. "But I never welcomed him, and as the mayor, it's my decision to say who's welcome!"

"Thank you very much, Mayor Shinn," Harold broke in, hoping that there was still a chance of regaining control over the situation; Eulalie Shinn proved to be a great help as she walked primly onto the stage to drag her husband away. "I am very happy, of course, to count myself among the citizens of your lovely city, and I hope that you all enjoyed this afternoon's performance. Of course, none of it would have been possible without the dedication of these boys, who worked tirelessly to make this concert a success."

Harold motioned for the band members to take their bows, and the crowd applauded wildly once again. Grinning, he turned his gaze to Marian.

"And I can't forget to thank the person who has been, shall I say, instrumental in the process of developing the Think System and preparing for this event."

An expression of shock passed across Marian's features, and her hand flew to her mouth.

"Ladies and gentlemen, River City's exceptionally talented music teacher, Marian Paroo!"

Turning pink, Marian looked half-ready to sink into her chair, but Harold motioned for her to join him onstage, and true to form, Mrs. Paroo noticed and nearly pushed her daughter toward the stairs.

Though her natural modesty caused her to blush, Harold could also perceive the delight in Marian's eyes as she took in the audience's adulation. She deserved it, Harold figured, not only on the merits of what she had done for the concert, but also simply because she had spent years so deprived of any form of approval from the community.

"Is there anything you'd like to say, Miss Paroo?"

Suddenly, Marian looked taken aback, her hazel eyes wide. "I can't," she whispered.

"Please, I want you to," Harold pleaded.

Shaking her head, Marian pressed her fingers to her throat. "I can't," she repeated in the same barely-audible voice.

"Oh, you're –" Blushing wasn't something that Harold was accustomed to, but he was fairly certain that he must have been doing it right now. Laughing uneasily, the music professor turned back to the audience. "Well, I'm afraid that Miss Paroo is still recovering from that pesky cold that's been going around."

Murmurs of commiseration came from the members of the crowd, many of whom had been sneezing throughout the performance.

"I'm sure all of you parents are eager to meet up with your boys, so I'll stop talking now. Thank you once again for all of your support!"

Immediately the auditorium broke into chaos, and Harold was quite certain that he would soon be overrun by admirers and new customers – but he needed to talk to Marian before anything else, or he thought he might go crazy. Using the mass of excited band members for cover, Harold took her by the hand and slipped backstage with her.

Pulling her close enough so that she wouldn't strain her voice, but not so close that it would appear improper if they were interrupted, Harold gazed searchingly into her eyes. "I'm sorry about what happened out there... I really had no idea."

"Of course you didn't," Marian responded, smiling. "Don't worry about that, Harold."

Eager to move on to more important subjects, Harold was happy not to press the issue further. "Well, what did you think?"

"What did I think?" Marian's eyes were shining with joy as she spoke. "It was wonderful, Harold. Everybody thought so... didn't you hear all the applause?"

"Well, I'm far more interested in what you have to say, Marian. It was for you, do you know that? I would never have embarrassed you by saying this, but that concert was dedicated to you."

"Oh, Harold," Marian demurred, lowering her eyes. "You don't have to say that."

"It's the truth," Harold insisted. "More than anything, I wanted you to know that I can do this... that I really can be a music professor now, no matter what I was before. I wanted you to know that you can depend on me."

The librarian nodded slowly, not seeming to understand. "You know that I've never doubted you, Harold. I've told you that many times. I told you yesterday, now that I think of it."

"It's not that..." He was becoming increasingly frustrated with his inability to articulate the change that had occurred today without giving away too much. "I think that Mayor Shinn said it best, which is rather surprising. He said I was welcome – I don't have to worry about anybody telling me to leave, thinking I'm still a fraud. Before today, I was still afraid – just a little bit, just sometimes – that I could lose the favor of the townspeople, and then how could I hold on to you? But now I belong here, as much as anybody else. And what's more, I wanted you to see that what you've taught me has been working. I know that I've needed your help quite often to make this concert happen, and I felt guilty that I was asking you to run yourself ragged for me... but hopefully, my business will demand less and less of your time in the future. You shouldn't have to take care of me, Marian – I want to take care of you."

As soon as he uttered that last sentence, Harold froze, wondering if he had made his intentions too obvious. But Marian didn't seem inclined to demand any more from him – she simply sighed in happiness and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest for a brief moment.

"I'm so happy, Harold," she whispered, and although they were still in public, just barely out of sight, Harold couldn't keep himself from tightening his arms around her and lightly kissing her forehead.

"Me too," he answered softly, his heart flooded with gratitude to whatever force of destiny or divinity had allowed him to be loved by this wonderful woman.

Suddenly a young boy's voice cut above the rumbling murmur of the crowd. "Where'd Professor Hill go? I want to talk to him!"

Quickly pulling back, Marian smiled up at him. "Your public demands your attention, Professor. I wouldn't want you to keep them waiting."

Allowing his dear little librarian to take his hand and lead him back out onto the stage, Harold quickly located the boy who had called his name – and many more, children and parents flooding him with orders for instruments and uniforms, people asking when the band might have its first parade, even Zaneeta Shinn, who nearly talked his ear off over her idea for a troupe of baton girls.

Yet even among all this sudden windfall, Harold still remained rather single-minded. He had been planning on making a rather expensive purchase in the near future, so it was especially nice to receive such a spike in profits just as he had decided that he intended to place the order that afternoon.

Yes, thought Harold, he was definitely ready to purchase that ring.

xxx

Author's Note: This story ended up a good deal fluffier than I had originally intended it to be – I guess I just can't help it! Hopefully anyone who read it still found it enjoyable. :)