Knocked off balance, Harold reeled backward. With his reflexes, he might have been able to recover pretty easily – if he hadn't stumbled over a nearby footstool. Luckily, the sofa broke his fall.

Aghast, Marian rushed over to her husband and helped him up. "Harold! Are you all right?"

"Marian – have you taken leave of your senses?" he asked, gasping for breath.

"I'm so sorry!" she cried. "I didn't mean to push you that hard!"

"But you did mean to push me, apparently," he teased – though he still sounded a bit sore. "I guess you weren't kidding when you said you didn't care for the tango! Are there any other dances we should avoid in the future, as well?"

Marian blushed. "It's not that I don't like the tango – it's this particular song."

Harold looked intrigued. "I did wonder what a record was doing in a box of dishes. I take it you were the one who hid it there?"

She nodded sheepishly. "Twelve years ago this July."

As ever, Harold was quick to make the connection. He hastened to the Victrola and brought the music to a scratching halt. Then he turned back to his wife. "Marian," he said carefully. "I don't wish to pry, but does your loathing of the tango date specifically from the night I first called on you at home?"

Her blush deepened. "Harold, suppose I was to tell you that you weren't the only gentleman caller I received that evening?"

He gave her a sly smile. "Is that so?"

Marian couldn't help but laugh a little at the absurdity of the situation. She never thought she'd ever be telling her husband this story – especially twelve years after the fact! "Well, just before you stopped by, I was visited by an anvil salesman named – "

" – Charlie Cowell!" Harold finished, realization dawning in his eyes. "So he's the one who got you all riled up with his 'rumors and things,' was he? I knew I should have decked him when I had the chance!"

"Believe me, I would not have been sorry if you did!" Marian said with spirit.

He chuckled. "Well, we'll have to call it a missed opportunity, and leave it at that. So you were saying?"

"Mr. Cowell was looking for the Shinn house – for reasons you can probably guess. Then he noticed the 'Piano Given' sign in the parlor window, so he told me why he was in town. I expect he thought he'd find an ally in his quest for vengeance."

Harold raised an eyebrow at her. "And did he?"

"Of course not!" she said hotly. "How could you even think for a moment that I'd willingly assist such a vile man?"

"Well, I find it hard to reconcile the idea of you recoiling from him one moment, and then tangoing with him the next – which is where I assume this story is going," he replied wryly. "So how did you happen to end up dancing with that sorry excuse for a salesman?"

Marian was torn between embarrassment and amusement. "Must I really say? It was so long ago!"

"I'm rather enjoying seeing you squirm, Madam Librarian," he said with a mischievous grin. "You haven't blushed like this since we were newly wed."

She swatted at him, but he easily dodged her. "Oh, all right, I'll tell you," she sighed. "When Mr. Cowell came by, Mama thought he was you – she was watching from the parlor – so she put on that record. It was the perfect distraction: I coaxed Mr. Cowell into dancing with me so he wouldn't have time to alert Mayor Shinn about you before he had to catch his train."

"Well, it's no wonder you hate the tango!" he said sympathetically. Then he looked at her with shrewd eyes. "But that still doesn't completely explain why you pushed me away when I tried to kiss you, just now."

Marian winced – she was hoping she wouldn't have to reveal this little detail. "I had to do a little more than dance with Mr. Cowell to get him to stay," she admitted.

Harold's smile faded. "And what was that?"

"I kissed him," she confessed. When Harold didn't reply, she went on: "It was dreadful. He reeked of tobacco – when he pulled me closer, I thought I was going to gag! But I couldn't let go, not until I heard the whistle of the train pulling out of the station. It's funny; I haven't thought of this in years! But there's something about music that stirs up the dregs of one's subconscious. Hearing that tango again brought back all those awful feelings – the way he leered at me, the things he said about you – all this on the first romantic night we've had in ages! And then you dipped me exactly the way he did – " Marian paused and gazed wistfully at her still-silent husband. "He was my first kiss, and I had so wanted it to be you."

"Oh, darling," Harold said in a gentle voice. Without another word, he took her in his arms and held her. That was the wonderful thing about Harold; he always knew just what to say – and when to leave things unsaid.

It was Marian who broke the silence. "I'm sorry I ruined our evening."

"How can you say that?" he admonished. "Especially when I haven't even given you your present yet!"

She was immediately suspicious. "Harold… this doesn't have anything to do with why you've been so busy these past several weeks, does it? I've been wondering what you've been up to!"

"You know me too well, my dear little librarian," he said ruefully, removing an envelope from his pocket and handing it to her.

Marian opened the envelope. The first thing she saw was a postcard of a couple canoodling in front of the Eiffel Tower. On the back, Harold had written, Together in Paris? Behind the postcard were two train tickets. Marian gaped at her husband with astonished elation.

Harold grinned. "I thought we'd take the train to New York City, and then board an ocean liner. We'll leave in the middle of May and return home just before Flag Day."

"Paris in the springtime!" she gasped. "When did you start planning this?"

"The idea of going abroad with you has always been in the back of mind," he replied. "But the right time never seemed to arise, what with the birth of the twins, and then the war. And of course there was the financial aspect to consider. But after a few years of careful planning, I can finally take you on the trip of your dreams."

Marian still couldn't believe what she was holding in her hands – she and Harold had never even crossed the state line together. And they had certainly never been apart from their children for more than a day or two. "Do the twins know about this? I can't imagine they'll be thrilled about being left behind in Iowa, Penny in particular!"

"Penny and Elly weren't too pleased at first," he acknowledged. "But by the time we were finished with our conversation, they were thrilled at the prospect of having a whole month with no parents to cramp their style."

Marian burst into laughter. "Harold Hill – still the consummate salesman! But heaven knows what kind of trouble the girls will get into while we're gone," she fretted.

"Try not to worry about it too much, darling," he said soothingly, taking the postcard and tickets from her and placing them on the mantle. "Amaryllis, Winthrop and your mother assured me they would keep a good eye on Penny and Elly while we're gone." Harold reached out and drew Marian into his arms. "We've both been a bit frazzled lately – we could use a second honeymoon."

As Harold hugged her, she gazed fondly at the postcard and tickets. "We don't leave for a little over a month – I'm amazed you let the cat out of the bag so early!"

"Well, I was going to wait a few more weeks, but I figured I'd better break the news now" – he tweaked one of her curls – "before you resort to even more drastic measures to get my attention!"

She gave him a sad smile. "You hate my hair, don't you?"

"No, I don't," he said honestly. "I think it suits you quite well. It just takes a little getting used to, that's all. I mean, put yourself in my shoes: I've spent over a decade coming home to a wife with a chignon, so suddenly seeing you with bobbed hair was quite the surprise! I really would've appreciated prior warning." He wagged a finger at her.

"Prior warning!" Marian exclaimed. "Why do I always have to be the sensible and considerate one? You talk of the tribulations of being the only man in a house full of women – but you and Penny and Elly are peas in a pod! The three of you all have your secret plans, and I'm always the last to know about anything. So I thought, why couldn't I do something unexpected, for once? And another thing – "

Before Marian could say anything more, Harold kissed her. She happily acquiesced to his embrace – especially when she felt him shiver as her hair brushed against his face. So she shook her head a little, and then a little more, until Harold pulled away.

"You little vixen!" he said approvingly. "I was just thinking how much I was going to miss slowly removing the pins from your chignon, but I could get used to this." He took a few curls in his hand and kissed the tips of them.

Their eyes met. When Harold didn't say anything, she gave a subtle nod in the direction of the stairs.

He grinned. "Just one more thing." Ending their embrace, he walked over to the Victrola. Marian thought he was going to close the cover, but instead, he put the needle back on the record.

"Harold," she said apprehensively as the music started again, "what are you doing?"

"An exorcism, if you will," he replied. When she balked, he gave her a look. "Do you really want to let that second-rate hawker of anvils ruin a perfectly good tango?"

"Well, when you put it that way… " She took his hand.

Harold pulled her close. "I promise you, darling, after we're through, you won't even remember the man's name."

"What man?" Marian asked dreamily as her husband dipped her.

"No one at all," Harold assured her, and closed in for that kiss.

XXX

… And they lived happily ever after! (Seriously, I mean it this time. Well, for now, anyway!)