A/N: Don't worry- nobody will be spontaneously breaking into song or staging elaborately choreographed dance numbers in this fic. But if you've seen the old musical "The Music Man" you know the basic premise I'm (very loosely) working with here. Yes, the movie/show is pretty dated and hokey, but I've always had a soft spot for it. And I've definitely modernized the story and characters here.

You'll notice that I've changed the location of Cannon River from the state of Washington to Oregon. This was intentional- the Oregon coast is an area I know and love, and I hope I've captured the feeling of this special place in this story. Also, I picture the characters being a little younger here, closer to the ages they were at the beginning of the series.

Feedback and reviews appreciated!

Chapter 1

The sun was just beginning to dip into the horizon of the blue-gray waters of the Pacific, creating another glorious spring sunset on the coast. As he drove along the winding ribbon of Highway 101, Patrick Jane glanced over frequently to take in the spectacular sight beside him. The shimmering waves that pounded the rocky shore seemed to beckon him, and on any other day he would have pulled his Airstream to the side of the road to get out and take in the view properly. However, he was so close to his destination, he pushed through with growing anticipation. Just a few more miles and he'd be there.

Finally he saw it, the sign announcing the Sea Lion Campground and RV Park just one mile ahead. He arrived at its entrance, turned down the long gravel driveway and continued through the rusty metal gate. Jane pulled his RV into a spot nestled between a giant spruce and the campground's rental office and its adjoining cottage. He hopped out and gave a quick stretch to his back which was achy and tight after a long day behind the wheel. Then, grinning widely, he bounded over to the door of the light gray house and gave it a few quick raps. A few moments later, his old friend opened the door and greeted him with twinkling eyes and a bone-crunching bear hug that lifted him off the ground.

"Aw, Patrick Jane, you son of a bitch! How're ya doin'?"

The two men clapped each other on the back and broke apart, regarding one another fondly. It had been at least a half dozen years since the friends had seen each other, ever since Jane had left the carnival life they shared behind him and struck out on his own. Yet despite the distance and time that had passed, the bond between them was as close as ever.

"Doing great, Pete, and how about yourself? By the looks of it retirement seems to be treating you well."

"Yeah, I can't complain," the older man sighed contentedly. Pete and his wife had left the carnie circuit a few years earlier and were enjoying the leisurely pace of civilian life. "You know I never thought I'd say it, but I don't miss being on the road one little bit. It's kind of nice waking up every day knowing exactly where I am, and you sure can't beat the view we've got here." He motioned towards the shoreline that was just visible through a break in the trees. The two men looked out over the water for a moment then turned back towards the house.

As they entered the tiny kitchen of the weather-worn building, Pete immediately went to fill the teakettle and placed it on the stove. Patrick smiled and nodded in thanks, then sat down at the small table near the window and looked out again at the surf in the distance. "Yeah, from your letters it sounds like a pretty sweet gig you've got here, my friend. Free rent in exchange for managing the campground, huh?"

Pete joined him at the table and glanced around the sparse but cozy kitchen. "Yep. We like it here a lot. Although Sam went a little stir crazy after the first week, so she ended up taking a job in town working at one of those little shops that sells knickknacks and seashells to the tourists." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his long legs out in front of himself. "So, how about you, Paddy? Your message said you had gotten yourself into a little bit of trouble lately. Not that that's any big surprise," he chuckled softly, the tuffs of his longish gray hair dancing as he laughed.

"Well, you know me, Pete. I always try to keep it interesting," Patrick replied with a smirk. "But unfortunately, my activities of late have resulted in me be effectively barred from every major casino from Reno to Vegas. "

"Ha!" Pete shook his head in amusement. "I always told you that overzealous card-counting of yours was going to get you into hot water. Speaking of which..." He got up from his chair to attend to the kettle and took a box of tea and two cups from the cupboard.

"Well, I'm just embarrassed I got myself caught. You know I've always prided myself on my ability to stay under the radar," Jane responded somewhat sheepishly. "But I overplayed my hand- both literally and figuratively."

"So, where's the next destination, then? Atlantic City? Monte Carlo?" Pete filled the cups with steaming hot water and set them down on the table along with the tea box.

"I was actually thinking more along the lines of… Cannon River." Jane paused for effect, eager to see his old buddy's reaction. Pete clapped his hands in delight and leaned forward. Patrick dipped the tea bag into his cup before continuing. "I was thinking about taking a little sabbatical from card playing and resuming the old 'storefront psychic' routine for a while."

"Well, we'd love to have you around and it's a nice little town," Pete said. "But I'm afraid the money you'd be making here would be chump change compared to what you've been bringing in lately playing poker."

"Meh, it's not about the money Pete- it's about staying sharp, keeping my skills up… and having a little bit of fun while I'm at it." Jane took the teabag out of his cup and sipped his drink through an impish grin.

"Well, I think you'd do well here," Pete said thoughtfully. "It's pretty quiet right now, being the off-season and all. But in a few weeks, the tourists'll come and our sleepy little village practically doubles in size. Plenty of marks to be had."

"Now that's what I like to hear," Patrick replied in an almost gleeful tone. "So, is there any other game in town I should know about? I'd hate to step on someone's toes."

Pete leaned back in his chair again. "Hmm. There was a woman who lived in town, Kristina Frye. She ran a 'spiritual counseling' practice out of her house- a real woo-woo if you get my meaning. But she left town a while back, moved down to Sacramento to work for the California Bureau of Investigation. Helping catch murders and the like"

"Well, how very altruistic of her, using her powers for good instead of evil," Jane retorted sarcastically before taking a sip from his cup. "But all the better for me, leaving behind a built-in client base to draw from."

"It's yours for the taking if you want it, my friend. You could make a killing." Pete paused. "Although, and you'll laugh when I say this, but I can see you going the way of Kristina Frye- leaving the hustle behind and finding an outlet a little more worthy of your talents and skills."

Jane started to chuckle and shake his head incredulously, but Pete was not deterred, his mood suddenly more serious. "No, I mean it, Patrick… You've always been special. You've got a real gift- I've seen it in you since you were kid. I know you like to pass it off as just being observant and simply applying the tricks of the trade. But with your smarts and savvy… you could do a lot more with your life than what you've been doing, and I know you don't mind me speaking my mind and saying so."

Jane paused for a moment, not quite sure how to respond to his friend's gentle but straightforward admonishment. "Wow, Pete. I wasn't exactly expecting the whole 'disappointed dad' thing from you..."

"Now you know I'm not trying to bust your chops here, Paddy. I just want the best for you."

"I know that, Pete, and I appreciate you thinking that I'm capable of some greater purpose or higher calling in life." Jane's tone was breezy, almost dismissive. "But things are good. You don't need to worry about me."

Patrick took a long drink from his cup before changing the subject. "So, what do you say you tell me more about this little town of yours?"

XXXXXX

The next morning Jane awoke to the dull roar of the surf pounding the rocks outside his open Airstream window. He had been up late with Sam and Pete the night before- reminiscing about old times and catching up on stories about mutual friends and acquaintances from their carnival days. He had regaled them with tales of his recent gambling exploits and travels, and they described for him the quiet life they were now leading in Cannon River, a village of just over 600 people a couple of miles down the road.

By the time he roused himself out of bed, Sam had already left for work and Pete was puttering around the campground, cleaning up after guests who had checked out a few hours earlier. It was mid-morning by the time Patrick bid his friend farewell for the day and set off on foot for the two-mile trek into town. He was eager to check out this Cannon River and see what it was like.

He always enjoyed a nice long stroll, and on this morning it was especially invigorating. As he walked along the highway he drank in the sights and smells of his new surroundings- the periwinkle hydrangea bushes and windblown pines that dotted the roadside; the emerald green grass; the towering moss-covered spruce trees that rose up from sides of hills, casting their long shadows on the road. The air smelled of fresh rain and the salty sea. After spending the last several months in the desert, it was like an oasis for Jane's senses, and he relished in it.

As he walked his mind went back to Pete's words from the previous evening. Pete had always been a father figure to him and had no qualms about speaking the truth as he saw it, especially when he thought Patrick needed to hear it. Nonetheless, Jane had been slightly taken aback by his little dressing-down. It seemed to come out of nowhere, Jane thought, and even more curious, it was almost as if Pete were passing judgment on their old life.

Perhaps, Jane supposed, the time away from the circuit had Pete waxing philosophical about the ethical quandaries of carnie life, thoughts one simply didn't entertain when you were immersed in it. Jane had had such feelings himself over the years, when pangs of conscience sneaked up on him from time to time. But in the grand scheme of things, he rationalized, the life he lived and the small-scale cons he pulled did no real harm to any one. He was a just small-time hustler, and there was nothing wrong with that.

When he reached town, he quickly got the lay of the land. The heart of the small downtown, which was only about five or six blocks long, lay on both sides of the Cannon River, a lazy, curvy stream that emptied into a small bay. Jane made mental note of the various places he saw- a few restaurants, various shops, a post office, etc.- all the places you'd expect to see in a town it's size. A giant tree-covered hill with houses overlooking the town provided a lush backdrop to the picturesque village. Such an effortlessly charming place, Jane could see why Sam and Pete decided to settle here.

Making his way back to the main road, he made the happy discovery of a vacant storefront next to a tiny bookshop near the market, perfectly situated in what seemed to be the hub of activity. As he took at out his cell phone and began dialing the phone number listed on the For Rent sign, he felt a rumbling in his stomach. It was almost 11, and he hadn't eaten a bite. As he left a voicemail message for his perspective landlord, he glanced across the street and saw a small café, Minelli's Coffeeshop and Bakery which he had noticed earlier in his walkabout. A hand-painted sign hanging in its window, Specialty Coffees and Teas, caught his attention and sounded particularly promising.

He jogged across the road and entered the shop where his eyes were immediately drawn to the extensive list of teas written on the chalkboard above the counter. He joined the end of the long line of customers and perused the offerings, then peeked into the bakery case. He was so engrossed with the task of deciding that by the time he reached the front of line, he hadn't even noticed the petite brunette woman standing behind the counter waiting to take his order. He looked over and his eyes met hers- the brightest, clearest pair of emerald eyes he had ever seen in his life.

He didn't know it at the time, but Patrick Jane was in trouble.