The door to the office flew open with a bang.  Dwight threw a glare in Pam's direction and hung his coat on the coat tree near her desk.

"What is that?"  Dwight sniffed loudly.  He turned his attention towards Jim. "And why are you dressed like me?"

"That is popcorn."  Jim replied, gesturing towards Dwight with his pen.  "And I am not dressed like you."

"Yes you are."

Jim smoothed down his tie.  "What are you talking about?  I'm not.  I'm dressed - as instructed by Michael - like something out of a seventies sit-com.  Where's your costume?"

Dwight shoved a shopping bag under his desk.  "I'm saving it for later.  And don't try a diversion tactic to fool me.  I'm unfoolable.   You've worn those clothes before.  When you were trying to be me - and failing at it miserably I might add."

Jim shrugged and began to type.  "I don't know what you are talking about."

"First off - that shirt's the entirely the wrong color mustard."  Dwight muttered under his breath as he took his seat.

"Michael?  The toaster isn't working."  Phyllis called from the kitchen.  "And we're almost out of butter."

Michael bounded out of his office, sighing loudly, clearly flustered.  "Well.  Have your boyfriend fix it."

Phyllis stuck her nose in the air as she replied.  "He's my husband and he deals with refrigerators - not toasters..."

"Same difference."  Michael sighed louder.  "Go to the store then."

"Hey."  Pam took a steadying breath and tapped him on the shoulder. "Anything I could do to help?"

Jim flashed a wide smile in her direction.  She gave him a pointed look in reply.

"Sure.  You can help.  You can help me understand why isn't everything ready yet!?"  Michael threw up his hands, the beret he wore almost flying off in the process.

"That's a nice hat Michael."  Jim remarked. 

"Thank you."

"Who are you supposed to be exactly? Let me guess. Pepe Le Pew?"

"No Jim..."  Michael began.  "I'm the director.  This is what directors wear."

Jim's mouth twisted in disbelief.  "Is it really?"

"Yes. Really."  

Pam tried to keep her voice level as she interrupted.  "Michael maybe we're not ready because you changed you mind since yesterday.   We're all just trying to keep up..."

"I can do what I want.  I'm the director.  Creative license Pam."  He walked towards the kitchen in a huff.

Pam shrugged at Jim.  "I tried." 

"Valiant effort."

"It's a shame.  I was all set to play Marcia before the rewrite.  I was even going to practice with the football."  She sat on the edge of Jim's desk, tugging at the hem of her short plaid skirt as she did. 

Jim stole a quick glance at her legs before he blinked and replied.  "He's a mess.  Nice tights by the way."

She tugged at the skirt again and blushed slightly.  "Thanks.  And I know.  He's all over the place."  Pam's face brightened as if she'd had a brilliant idea.  "I think you should talk to him."

"Who?  What?  Me??"

"Yes. You."

"Talk to him about Holly?"

"Yes."

Jim chuckled and shook his head.  "No thanks."

"I'm trying here because of you."  Pam gave him a look of disappointment.  "What happened to your sympathy?"

"Hey.  I said I was sympathetic - not a glutton for punishment."

Pam's voice softened as she nudged Jim's shoulder.  "Seriously.  I've been thinking a lot about what you said.  Maybe it's exactly what he needs."

Jim regarded her closely as he considered her request.  "Let me think about it."

"You do that."  She smiled as she pushed off his desk and went back to reception.

xoxoxo

Pam stood on a chair hanging streamers from the ceiling.  She reached down to grab the piece of scotch tape Angela offered. 

She gave Angela a half smile.  "That's a beautiful top you're wearing."

Angela's brow furrowed as she gazed down at the high necked lace blouse she wore.  "Thank you."

"It's very festive and pilgrim-like." Pam's smile grew.  "It's a great costume."

"What are you trying to say?"

Pam's eyes widened as she fought to explain.  "Well it is Thanksgiving..."

"I'm not dressing up for Michael's ridiculous reenactment.  This is exactly what I was planning on wearing today.  I always try and dress proper and ladylike.  Unlike some people who think a swatch of cloth suffices as a skirt."

"Okay..."  Pam self consciously tugged on her skirt as she shook her head and turned her attention back to the task at hand.

"I've got what I could manage as far as buttered toast and the pretzel sticks."  Phyllis called out as she entered the conference room.  She held a basket filled with toast slices and bags of pretzels from the vending machine.  "I think we're all set except - Pam - we still need your jelly beans."

Pam nodded.  "I'll go get them."

"I've got the popcorn."  Kelly sighed heavily as she placed a large bowl in the center of the table.  "Do we really have to do this?"

Michael cleared his throat as he walked in.  "Kelly.  Just stop complaining.  I don't know what your people do but this is an American office and we're going to have a traditional Thanksgiving dinner."

Kevin poked his head in the room.  "Is the food ready?"

"No.  Not yet - Kevin."  Phyllis replied.

"This is so not fair.  I'm starving.  I've smelled the popcorn for hours but haven't been able to eat any."

"Yes.  I'm sure you're only mere minutes away from malnutrition."  Angela muttered.

Michael ignored them all.  "The food is not important.  The people are important.  Charlie Brown had all his friends around him for Thanksgiving - because that's what the holiday is about.   It's much better than the Brady Bunch because your friends are also your family."  His voice rose in excitement as he continued.  "You know - I don't think I've thought this through enough.  We could have just done one of the Friends episodes.  You know the one where they put the turkey on their heads?  That was great TV."

Pam hopped off the chair.  "Michael.  Here's a thought.  Why don't we...we could just have the party without having to reenact anything..."

"NO.  We need to do this.  To film something.  I need to have something to show her..."

Pam's eyes widened.  "Show her?  Her...who?"

Michael waved her off.  "Never mind.  Tell everyone to gather around.  I'm going to get the camera.  Filming starts in five minutes."

"Sure." Pam nodded as she followed him out the door and headed straight for Jim's desk.

She stood by impatiently waiting for Jim to finish a call.  The moment he hung up she started to speak.

"You were right."

"Of course I was."  He smiled up at her.  "What was I right about this time?"

"Michael.  And Holly.  He's making us go through all this to send her the video.  I think he's trying to win her back by showing her what's she's missing."

"Hmmm."  Jim nodded his head.  "Not a bad idea."

"Really?"

"You didn't see them together.  I forgot. You missed the ethics presentation she gave right?"

"Yes. I did."

"Well if you'd seen it you'd understand.  Holly and Michael operate on - like - an equal plane."  He explained.  "She's like...his...I don't know...twin or something.  That doesn't quite sound right...but close enough."

"Okay that's scary.  Honestly?"

"Honestly.  And she'll probably love his little skit.  Might be what he needs to get her back.  And so...I think we should help him."  Jim stood, shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged.  "Ten bucks we get out early if we do."

Pam's face filled with relief.  "You think so?  That would be great.  I'd have time to bake for tomorrow."

"Whoa.  Watch out Betty Crocker." He teased.  "Still going to try that pie huh?"

"Yes."  She looked at him smugly.  "I am.  And it's going to be delicious.  Better than Marci's."

"I'm sure Tom will tell you if it isn't."

"I should do something to his slice."  Pam replied.  "Show him what a real prank is like."

"Wow.  Fighting words."  He chuckled at the look on her face.  "Go get 'em Beesly."

Pam sighed and twisted her hands a bit.  "You know - I probably won't prank him.  It's the first time I'll be at Thanksgiving with your family.  I want to make a good impression."

"Well you can relax about that.  You've already made a great impression."

"Really?"  Her voice sounded so earnest it made him smile.

"Yes really."  He assured her, brushing a stray curl off her cheek as he did.  "Now c'mon.  Sooner we do this - the sooner we're home."