Jim heard rapid knocking as he removed the keys from the ignition. My car's never made a sound like that before, he mused with concern, looking over at his passenger. Wait. That's not the car.

She gave him a brief, tight smile, clutching the bag to her chest like a shield, her feet tapping miles a minute against the floorboards.

"I promise, you have nothing to worry about. They'll love you." She made a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat. He rubbed her shoulder reassuringly. "Ready?"

"Yep," Pam replied, almost too quickly, with a decisive nod of her head. The longer they waited, the more nervous she would become. Best to just get it over with.

"You're the best," he said encouragingly as he exited the car, coming around to open her door. "Here, I'll take the corn." He reached for the bag.

She grasped it more tightly. "No, I want to carry it," she assured him. Having something to do with her hands always made her feel better. Worst-case scenario, even if there was nothing left to do in the kitchen, at least she could wrap it in tinfoil for the grill. Tinfoil… If she'd had a free arm, she would have smacked her forehead. "I forgot to bring the tinfoil!" she hissed, looking pained.

He opened the rear door and picked up the roll with an easy smile. "You had the corn, so I got it. Not that we need it. My mom probably has miles of the stuff."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "I love you, Jim."

"I love you too," he replied. On any other day he would have teased her, possibly asking When did you become so easy, Beesly? Today, he refrained. He was well-aware just how anxious she was. Grinning contentedly, he walked beside her. Truthfully, he was still just happy she'd agreed to come. As he'd told her more than once, she really didn't have anything to worry about. She'd just shook her head and changed the subject every time he'd mentioned it, though, so he'd stopped. She'll figure it out soon enough.

Struggling with the weight of the bag, she fell behind. "Come on Pam, I got it." He lifted it easily from her arms, handing her the foil with a gentle smile.

She opened her mouth to protest. Thinking better of it, she bit her lip. "Thanks. It was really heavy."

He lifted it above his head with one hand. "Light as a feather."

She giggled. "Show off," she murmured as they arrived at the door.

He grinned victoriously. She'd been uncharacteristically wooden during the drive. He knocked perfunctorily, then pushed open the door. "Hey mom!" he called. "We're here."

"Jim!" The sound of light footsteps preceding her, she rushed around the corner from the kitchen and wrapped him in a brief, tight hug. She was tall and lanky, brown hair gracefully graying, an apron tied over her jeans. She spoke in a lilting voice, with the faintest hint of an accent that was impossible to place. Her eyes—green, large, and friendly—were so like Jim's. Pam liked her immediately. "And Pam, of course. So happy to meet you!"

Unexpectedly, she found herself enveloped in a hug as well. "It's nice to meet you too, Mrs. Halpert."

"Call me Betsy," she laughed with a wave of her hand. "Mrs. Halpert is Jim's grandma." Her laugh was downright infectious. She glanced at Pam's necklace, then looked over at Jim and raised her eyebrows approvingly. Pam, looking down shyly as she assented, missed the exchange.

Jim smiled back, thankful for her advice the day before. "So where is everyone?" he asked. "Oh, and we brought corn," he said, indicating the bag in his arms. "Pam's idea."

She smiled at him gratefully as Betsy clapped her hands together. "That's perfect! Your dad just started the grill. Let's see… Tom and Pete were watching football, but they've been on the patio for a while now. I'm not sure what ‘Riss is up to. She said she'd help me in the kitchen, but she scampered off a while ago. Probably looking at photo albums in her old room."

He rolled his eyes. "Sounds about right."

Pam spoke up. "I'd love to help out, Betsy. I just need to wrap the corn in tinfoil. Then I can do whatever you need."

Betsy beamed. "I could certainly use the help. Jim," she said, taking the bag of corn, "why don't you take Pam around and introduce her to everyone first?"

"You got it, Betsy," he answered drolly as she headed back into the kitchen.

"Still ‘mom' to you, smartass."

Pam covered her mouth in shock, grinning. Finding themselves alone in the entryway, Jim briefly put his arm around her shoulder. "Ready to meet everyone else?"

She nodded and looked up at him, eyes sparkling. "Your mom is pretty cool."

"I guess," he shrugged, feigning indifference as he snuck a kiss to her temple.

She twisted away from him. "Not here," she said, glancing toward the kitchen apprehensively.

"I remember." He dropped his arm and zipped his lips, heading toward the back door.

She followed, nervously twisting the box in her hands. "I'll just drop this off real quick." She detoured briefly into the kitchen. "I'll be right back," she promised Betsy.

"Oh, you didn't have to bring foil, sweetie. I have miles of it." She pulled a permanent marker from her apron and wrote something on the corner of the box. "Make sure to take it with you when you leave."

"I will, thank you." Placing the box into the bag of corn, she saw that Betsy had written Jim 7 Pam. Curiously, she wondered what the 7 meant as she followed him out back.