So Pam had had a one woman show?  The thought filled Jim with a surge of pride.  He quickly Googled “evarts gallery” haddonfield and the gallery’s link appeared at the top of the results list.  He clicked the link and, scanning the home page, quickly found what he was looking for:  Recent shows.  He clicked that link and there was Pam’s name, second from the top.  One more click and suddenly there she was, with a dazzling and confident smile the likes of which he’d never seen.  God, she looked – exquisite.  Her hair was bobbed shorter and framed her face with wavy ringlets.  Her skin had a delicate bronze tone and her hair was full of golden highlights that hinted at many hours in the sun in the days before this picture was taken.  She looked relaxed and happy and beautiful.

Beneath her photo was an introduction to Pam’s show:

Our own Pam Beesly takes us on an intensely personal exploration of the themes of love, hope and loss.  Every one of the subjects of these portraits is someone the artist holds close in her heart. 

He clicked on the first thumbnail, Father of the Bride.  The picture that filled his screen was a pencil drawing of a quiet moment between Pam’s father and sister, Rachel, at her wedding.  Rachel’s face was full of anticipation as she reached up to straighten her father’s tie.  His face showed a complicated mix of emotions.  Pride, amusement, affection, melancholy – how did Pam capture all that in a single moment?

Next, he looked at New Love.  The watercolor featured Rachel again, this time nursing her new baby.  The infant, nestled in Rachel’s arms and wrapped up in a soft blanket, was hidden from the viewer.  The focus of the portrait was Rachel’s face, which glowed with an intense love and contentment. 

Jim browsed back to the thumbnails and chose With All That I Am, And All That I Have, I Honor You.  A portrait of an elderly couple filled his screen.  Since the show introduction said all the portrait subjects were Pam’s loved ones, he supposed these must be Pam’s grandparents.  The old man in the portrait stood behind a woman who was seated before a vanity.  The viewer was situated behind them and could see their faces reflected in its mirror.  His face was full of affection while he brushed the woman’s short, white hair.  Her face, on the other hand, was totally blank, as if she didn’t even recognize him.  Displayed on the vanity, facing the couple, was a wedding portrait.  Jim looked back and forth between the expression of the groom and the old man.  Both faces showed the same look of love.  It made the contrast between the young and old woman’s faces all the more poignant.  Now that was commitment.

Till Death Do Us Part showed Pam’s grandparents again, her grandfather looking lost amid a sea of gladiolas, roses, carnations and a casket.  Everything surrounding him was smudged and indistinct, leaving his grief in high relief. 

He clicked Jinx and was met with a portrait of himself.  He was seated at his desk, with a can of Coke beside him, looking up with an expression that was openly adoring.  Jesus, did he ever really look at her like that?  He thought he’d been so good at concealing his feelings.  If she saw this look on his face, how could she ever have denied knowing that he was in love with her?

My Loss Is Your Gain showed him dancing with Karen.  It would’ve been at Phyllis’ wedding.  Karen’s back was to the viewer so her face was hidden as she craned her neck to look up at him.  He was smiling down at her as he held her in his arms.  My loss is your gain?  He blew out a deep breath just thinking how Pam must’ve felt looking on.

Then there was Gifts.  He compared the picture on the screen to the one that sat in his lap.  The screen looked just like the actual picture, so he knew the pictures he’d been viewing were accurate representations of her work.

Jim abruptly closed the web browser.  There were more pieces in Pam’s show but he’d already seen more than his brain could process.  Every other picture in the show featured a member of Pam’s family.  The Beesly clan was especially tight-knit, Jim remembered, and Pam’s demeanor always took a turn toward breezy contentment when she talked about them.  She never had that look when she talked about Roy but, in Jim’s daydreams, she always had that look when she talked about him.  Maybe his imagination was more perceptive than he’d ever dared hope.  He shook his head, unable to quite grasp that, among the pictures of the family Pam that adored, there were three pictures of himself. 

Jim suddenly sat upright and re-opened the web browser.  It was crazy but he was going to do this – if he didn’t, he’d spend the rest of his life wondering.  He navigated to Google Maps and entered the return address on the FedEx shipping label.  1067 Fitzwater St., Philadelphia, PA.  Ah!  Not far from Center City at all!  It would be pretty easy to find a convenient hotel.  Great.

He clicked the link for the street view and took a virtual walk down the street where Pam lived.  It appeared to be a modest, blue collar neighborhood.  He clicked the advanced search link to find a hotel that was reasonably close to Pam’s home.  Hot damn!  There was a B&B literally two blocks from Pam’s doorstep.  Philadelphia Bella Vista.  Jim called the B&B; there was a cancellation just today and one of their best suites was now available through Sunday.  It was a bit steep but … to have a place in walking distance of Pam’s place sounded really, really appealing.  If things went horribly awry, he could make a quick escape on foot, rather than having to call for a cab.  He booked the room without another thought.

So, now the question was email, text or call?  Maybe email and text?

In theory, shipping the picture so it would be delivered on an afternoon that Pam had no classes seemed like a great idea.  In reality – a little different.  Now that Pam knew Jim probably had it in his possession, every minute that elapsed with no contact left her feeling more edgy and less confident that she’d done the right thing.  She kept checking her phone and her email to see if she’d missed a message – as if that were even possible with the volume turned up to the highest level on both the laptop and the phone that were sitting on the coffee table, mere inches from her knees.

It wasn’t doing her any good to bite at her cuticles and watch her laptop so Pam forced herself up off the sofa and plodded to the kitchen to make a pot of tea.  She puttered about the kitchen, rummaging through her tea selection.  It took only a moment to decide that Tension Tamer was the tea du jour.  After she put the kettle of water on the burner, she sat at the little dinette table and looked about for something, anything, to do while she waited for the water to boil.    She decided that she could understand the appeal of smoking.  Or drinking to excess.  She really could use something to do with her hands.  And her mouth.  She wasn’t going to have any cuticles left if she kept up this constant gnawing at her fingers.

She wandered over to the refrigerator and opened the door, staring blankly at its contents.  She flipped the door shut, opened the freezer, and grabbed the half-eaten pint of her favorite ice cream.  A bittersweet smile stole over her face as she remembered her first taste of Moose Tracks.  She’d been particularly stressed that Monday after arguing with Roy the entire weekend about setting a date for their wedding.  She spent the morning planted at her desk, feeling sorry for herself and angry at herself all at the same time  – a positively visceral strain from holding in all the rage she would never allow herself to voice.  Oh sure, she used to gripe to Jim sometimes, but what she allowed herself to say was nothing compared to what she felt.  She was like a balloon with fingers pinched tight at its mouth, stretching tighter and tighter, its skin becoming ever thinner and more friable, as it expanded to accommodate more air than it was ever designed to hold.  

She could feel Jim watching her all morning, assessing her mood.  He approached her a few times and attempted light conversation, but she was unresponsive.  She barely noticed when he left the office for a meeting with a customer.

A little before lunch time, she’d glanced up to see Jim stride through the doorway, wagging his eyebrows at her with a triumphant smile on his face.  Her first thought – that he’d planned a spectacular prank on Dwight – was confirmed when he flashed a small brown bag like some kind of contraband, as he leaned over her counter and whispered, “You know, Pam, I have in this bag the most potent mood-altering substance known to man.”

And it was as if the fingers that pinched the balloon shut suddenly loosened their grip and the air flubbered its way out, leaving the balloon pliable and relaxed.  “The most potent known to man?” she’d asked with her first laugh in a day and a half.

“Absolutely.  Forget Ecstasy; this stuff is far more potent.  For you anyway.  This is guaranteed to improve your outlook on life 100%.”  He’d cast a furtive glance over his shoulder and whispered ominously as he gestured toward the bag, “We cannot let Dwight know we have this in the office.”

So they’d escaped to the break room where Jim ceremoniously unfurled the brown bag and, with a flourish, withdrew a small carton.  “May I present – Moose Tracks.”  He tilted the box so he could read the description on the top as he deftly opened it.  “Vanilla ice cream with peanut butter cups and swirled with Denali Moose Tracks fudge.”  Pam grinned as he pulled two plastic spoons from the bag and handed one to her.

He sat back and watched expectantly with a gleam in his eye while Pam tried a few spoonfuls of the concoction.  “Oh my God, Jim – this is heaven!  I can’t believe you found an ice cream with peanut butter cups and dark chocolate!  These are like two of my favorite guilty pleasures!”  Jim just smiled knowingly at her as he spooned out some ice cream for himself.

They sat together, knees touching, elbows bumping as they took turns dipping their spoons directly into the carton.  Somehow, Jim seemed to get all the big chunks of fudge – and always magnanimously offered them to Pam.  He never handed her the spoon but playfully held it close to her nose, taunting her with it until she engulfed the bowl in her mouth and devoured the confection.

By the time the ice cream was gone, Pam did feel better.  A lot better, actually.  It became one of their traditions.  Whenever Pam was really down, when Jim felt the need to pull out the big guns, he’d show up at her desk with contraband Moose Tracks.  It was invariably a heady, sensual experience:  the cold ice cream and hard fudge melting on her tongue; the provocative warmth of their bodies softly bumping into one another again and again; the intimacy of eating from the shared carton rather than from separate bowls; the smooth sensation of licking the ice cream from the spoon that Jim gently thrust into her mouth.  It never failed to overwhelm her, leaving her uncertain about what exactly had been bothering her. 

They had an unspoken agreement that these moments were for them alone.  They never shared Moose Tracks during the regular lunch hour and certainly never when the cameras were in the office.

As Pam dipped into the carton of ice cream, she wondered whether Jim ever ate Moose Tracks anymore.  She thought there was a good chance he avoided it for the very reason she always kept it stocked in her freezer.

Ah!  The tea kettle was whistling.  Finally.  Pam dropped the teabags into the teapot and filled it with the steaming water.  She leaned over the pot and inhaled deeply as she carefully set the lid in its place.

Suddenly, a bing announced a new mail message and she rushed back to the living room.  As she flopped onto the sofa and leaned forward to thumb the touch pad on the laptop, John Mayer started to sing I hope that someone gets my, I hope that someone gets my, I hope that someone gets my message in a bottle…  A text message, too?

From:     Jim.Halpert@DunderMifflin.com     
To:         BeezKneez@gmail.com;pbeesly@vtext.com
Sent:      Thursday, June 18, 2009 2:23 p.m.
Subject:   We need to talk

Pam:

That was quite an attention getter.  Clearly we should talk, but I’m in & out of some pretty important meetings all afternoon.  Won’t get home till nearly 8:30.  Will you be home tonight?

Please respond asap.  I’m about to head out the door for the first meeting.

Jim

Pam’s heart sank as she read and reread Jim’s words.  She hadn’t known what to expect, but this sure wasn’t it.  She didn’t know whether he’d be angry or happy or just surprised at her gift … but she thought he’d be something.  She didn’t expect this totally dispassionate tone.  Clearly we should talk?  What did that even mean?  It didn’t sound like Jim at all.  This couldn’t be good.

With a disheartened sigh, Pam sat back on the sofa, hauling the laptop with her, and quickly replied.

From:      BeezKneez@gmail.com       
To:         Jim.Halpert@DunderMifflin.com
Sent:       Thursday, June 18, 2009 2:31 p.m.
Subject:    Re:  We need to talk

Hi, Jim:

Yep.  I’ll be home all evening. 

She paused with her fingers poised over the keyboard. 

It’ll be great to hear your voice again. 

She hesitated again.

Do you have Skype?  I’d love to see you.  I miss your smile.

Pam

She clicked Send before her courage could fail her.  Within seconds, she had a response.

From:        Jim.Halpert@DunderMifflin.com     
To:             BeezKneez@gmail.com
Sent:         Thursday, June 18, 2009 2:35 p.m.
Subject:     Re:  Re:  We need to talk

Pam:

Sorry.  Skype would’ve been a great idea.  Unfortunately, my laptop died last week & I’m not back on the net at home yet.  But I’ll call you at 8:30.  Pencil me in – it’s a date.

Jim

Pam laughed shakily.  So, he’d been waiting for her reply – that was good.  Didn’t mention wanting to see her – not so good.  He said it was a date – probably just a euphemism but she’d take it.  Now she just had to find a way to kill six hours without losing her mind.

Jim leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grin.  This was insane, but he absolutely didn’t care about that.  He quickly opened the Amtrak website and booked a ticket leaving Penn Station at 6 p.m. and arriving at 30th Street Station at 7:10.  He selected a return with a departure from 30th Street at 7:20 p.m. on Sunday.  Three days should be plenty of time to tell if there was still any potential – any spark between them.

Jim called Debbie into his office.  “Deb, I know this is short notice but I have something I have to take care of tomorrow.  I don’t have any meetings on my schedule.  If anyone calls for me tomorrow, just let them know that I’ll return their call on Monday.  I don’t want any calls forwarded to my cell this weekend, ok?  Starting now.”