III. Two turtle bowls

Jim walked purposefully out of the interview room and back to his desk. He picked up his phone and dialed quickly.

"Hey, I was just about to call you," Pam said when she picked up.

"Hey. Did, um, did you give Angela my coat?" Jim asked.

"What? No. Angela is like half your size- she'd drown in your coat. I gave Angela my coat. I've got your coat on. Is that a problem?" Pam sounded vaguely annoyed.

"No, it's fine," he said hastily, giving a brief thumbs-up to the camera. "No, I just...I just didn't know where it was, and I think I left...um, my wallet in the pocket."

Pam made a sound like a stifled giggle. "Actually, no, your wallet is in your back pants pocket," she said.

"What? How do you know that?"

"Well, because I occasionally check out your butt when you walk by, Halpert," she said, laughing. Jim laughed, too, and tried to turn his face away from the camera. He was blushing, and he knew it.

"Wow," he said. "That's...good to know, Pam. Hey, where are you, anyway?"

"I'm about to pull into the parking lot. I'll be right up. I'll tell you about it when I get upstairs." Pam's voice had gotten serious again. Jim raised his eyebrows, but didn't press the issue. He agreed, said good-bye, and hung up. When he looked up, he noticed Dwight staring at him strangely.

"Why did Pam give Angela your coat?" he asked suspiciously.

"She didn't. Don't be ridiculous. My coat is much too big for Angela. Pam gave Angela her own coat," Jim answered matter-of-factly. He picked up his phone and pretended to ignore Dwight's baffled and still-suspicious expression. In fact, Jim was as confused as Dwight, but he would never let Dwight know it.

Pam arrived just a few minutes later, Jim's coat dwarfing her small frame. The harsh winter weather had left her hair disheveled and her skin rosy, a look she would have tried to fix immediately, but which Jim found adorable.

Jim rose, and met Pam at her desk. "Can I take your coat, madam?" he said with faux formality.

Pam regarded him carefully. "You seem awfully concerned about this coat. I think I'll hold on to it for a while." She smiled at his nonplussed look, and draped the coat carefully over the back of her own office chair. "Come on, I need to talk to you right now anyway," she said in a more serious tone. She led the way to the lunchrooom. Jim hesitated a moment, looking back at his coat, and then followed after her. He figured the coat (and the gift tucked in the inside pocket) were just as safe now as they had been when he'd left them on the back of his own chair earlier.

When he entered the lunchroom, Jim found Pam talking to Oscar and Phyllis, who had returned from her customer visits just moments before. "Angela is under the weather, and is going to be out the rest of the day," Pam was saying. "I think the three of us should go ahead and brainstorm a list of things that sort-of go with the "12 days" theme and get people signed up." Phyllis nodded, not taking her eyes off of the coffee machine. Oscar nodded.

"Great. Can we meet in about an hour to go over the list?" Pam said. The other two agreed and left the room.

With a weary sigh, Pam sat down at the small table.

"Spill it, Beesly. What's up?" Jim was suddenly concerned. Pam looked very worried, and it finally dawned on him that it was very strange for her to disappear with Angela and them come back without her.

Pam sighed. "Angela is...well, she's in trouble, but she made me promise not to tell you." Pam's expression of worry deepened. "The thing is, I think I need your help."

"Whatever you need, Pam, but...what do you mean, she made you promise not to tell me?"

"I mean, I said, 'Can I tell Jim?' and she said, 'Absolutely not.' I'm sorry. Will you still help me?" Pam's eyes were pleading, and Jim knew at that moment that he'd throw himself off the building, with or without a bouncy castle to catch him, if she asked him to with that expression.

"OK."

"OK. Thank you. I just need you to get Dwight to go to Angela's house. She needs to talk to him, but she refuses to call him and she won't let me say anything to him either. But if you tell him to go, without knowing why, then I haven't broken my word to Angela about you or about Dwight."

Jim popped an eyebrow. "That's...sort of convoluted, Pam."

"I know, but...please? If anyone can think of a way to get him there, it's you. Please? Use your powers for good, for once?"

Jim laughed out loud. "Fine. I'll think of something." The look of gratitude on Pam's face was more thanks than Jim would ever have needed. Not to mention that Pam was absolutely right. Getting Dwight over to Angela's house should be fairly easy, and moreover would give him something entertaining to do for at least part of the afternoon.

Pam and Jim left the lunchroom, only to be nearly knocked over by Kelly, who was stalking toward the elevator. Her cellphone was pressed to her ear, and she clearly didn't see anything in her path. "I'm coming down there...Yes, I am...Yes, I am..." She stopped short, her eyes widening. Turning abruptly, she started back toward the annex. "Fine, then give me a hint! Just a hint! Please! Pleeeeeease."

Pam continued on to the reception desk, while Jim sat down next to Dwight. He noticed Pam arranging the coat behind her, but with an effort he chose not to worry about it. His first priority was to get Dwight to Angela's house. He thought for a while, absent-mindedly working on entering purchase orders. Andy was humming to himself in his typically annoying way, causing Jim to notice him for the first time that afternoon. It gave him an idea, and he looked up a few things on the intra-office calendar. After a while, Jim smiled conspiratorially at the camera. He got up and casually walked over to Pam's desk.

"Hey."

"Hi." Pam smiled hopefully.

"OK, Andy has an appointment in 20 minutes with the school board. As soon as he leaves, I need you to transfer a call to me. From my landlord. You know the drill?"

Pam nodded. They'd perfected the art of the "fake incoming call" years ago, when they realized that Dwight was just aware enough of his surroundings to notice if Jim got a call directly to his extension that was supposedly from someone he didn't know. Pam would dial the main Dunder Mifflin number with her cell phone under her desk, so that her desk phone would actually ring. She'd then answer the call and transfer it to Jim. Knowing that he could trust Pam fully as his accomplice, Jim grinned, grabbed a Christmas mint from her candy dish, and headed back to his own desk to wait for the call. Eventually, Andy left for his customer meeting. Jim and Dwight both sat in silence, although only Dwight was really focused on his expense reports.

"Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam." It had begun. "Jim? Yes, I'll transfer you." Jim's desk phone rang. "Jim, it's your landlord, Pete," she said in a bored tone of voice. Jim fought a smile as he looked up at her. She'd slipped his coat back over her shoulders instead of her normal cardigan.

"Hey, Pete, how are you?" Jim spoke to the dial tone. He imagined the words in his head that "Pete" (his actual landlord was Mrs. Kent) would be saying, so he would be sure to leave enough time between his phrases. "An evacuation? Oh, wow." Another pause. "So, I won't be able to look it up online or anything? How will I know a safe distance?" He waited, frowning. "OK, that's OK, I have a place to go outside the area, and I don't have any pets, so... Oh, yeah. Thanks for letting me know. Is everyone OK?" He paused again. "Good, that's great. Where are you calling from, then?" A few beats. "Oh, gotcha. Yeah, cell phones are great, especially when the landlines are down. Well, take care, Pete. I'll see you around the building when it is safe again. Yeah, you, too. Bye." He hung up and looked over at Pam.

"What's the matter?" she asked, as if on cue.

"It's unbelievable. I guess a chemical truck hit a power station in our neighborhood. Electricity and phone service is out for a couple of blocks, and they are evacuating a couple of square miles in the area because of the chemical leak. Pete was calling to make sure I knew about it, and that I didn't have any pets that I'd be tempted to go back for- they're making everyone stay away until they clear it up. Here's the thing, though-" Jim lowered his voice. "It was a government truck, so they're not letting the media report about it. They're just going door to door evacuating people. If you're someone who, say, doesn't open the door for strangers, you might not even know about it. And if your the kind of person who would refuse to evacuate because you think God will save you or because you refuse to leave your pets, the chemicals could be lethal. I assume it's OK if I hang out at your place for the evening?"

"Oh, sure," said Pam. "Wow, that's pretty scary. I'm so glad you're at work and not at home today," she continued. Both of them were aware that Dwight was overhearing every word of this conversation. His eyes were wide, his brow furrowed. With a tiny frown of her own, Pam set Jim up for the finishing touch. "How big of an area were they evacuating, anyway? We don't live that far apart."

"Pete said it didn't go too far in that direction. The evacuation is only as far as the high school."

Dwight jumped up from his desk, grabbed his coat, and ran out the door without a word.

After staring for a moment after Dwight, Pam turned to Jim with a radiant smile. He got up and leaned on the edge of her desk. "So, I got him to go over there. And you know he won't give up until she lets him in. Can you tell me the big secret now?"

Pam's smile didn't diminish a bit. "Nope," she said cheerfully.

"Fine. But can I at least have my coat back?" he asked.

"Nope." She shrugged into the too-big shoulders of the coat and pulled it closer around her. "I'm chilly," she said. She might not have really been cold, but she was beautifully, frustratingly obstinate. Jim shook his head in smiling defeat and went back to his desk.

Pam smiled at the camera. Her silent amusement was interrupted by Creed, coming to her desk. "Hi. Patricia says you need to borrow two of my turtle bowls," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"She said you need two turtle bowls. I make them in my ceramics class. I'll bring them in tomorrow if you write me a note to remember." Pam had no idea what Creed was talking about, not that this was unusual.

"Pam? Pam!" It was Phyllis, trying to get her attention. "I figured we could fill the turtle-shaped bowls with Dove bar miniatures. 'Turtle doves'?" Pam laughed out loud. On a piece of memo paper, she printed BRING TURTLE BOWLS (2) FOR WORK and handed it to Creed.