With a happy sigh, she scanned Larissa's Irish translations. Choosing one, she quickly committed it to memory before re-folding the note and tucking it into her pocket. She was on her way back to the living room when she noticed everyone chatting in the entryway. Larissa and Tom were preparing to leave, from the looks of it. Jim looked over at her. She raised her eyebrows at him as she walked to the living room. Intrigued, he followed her. As he came around the corner, she snaked her arms around his neck and tugged his lips down to hers, kissing him fiercely.

Taken aback by her intensity, he stood stock-still. Momentarily, he responded, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her firmly against him, completely forgetting to ask what she and Larissa had been up to. "Oof," he said appreciatively when she pulled back. He grinned wickedly, eyes roving her face. "What was that for?"

She stroked his cheekbone, so tenderly. "For everything." She couldn't tell him she knew he'd defended their relationship without revealing what Larissa had shared in confidence. "Teach me how to say something in Irish."

He nodded, lips curving up. "Anything. What do you wanna say?"

"I dunno." She shrugged. "I just wanna start learning. I don't know any Irish words yet."

He glanced at her necklace. "You know one."

She touched the opal. He was right, he had taught her one already. "Well… I love, loyalty, and friendship the heck out of you. How does that translate?"

Her words evoked a vivid memory of the previous afternoon. Good choice. He murmured, "Grá. Dílseacht. Cairdeas."

She remembered seeing the first word on Larissa's note. "Graw," she repeated.

"Dílseacht," he prompted her.

"Dill-shocked."

"Cairdeas," he finished.

"Cord-jiss?"

He nodded, smiling proudly. "All together now?"

"Grá. Dílseacht. Cairdeas," she intoned. Larissa rounded the corner. Quickly, she said, "What's goodbye?" It was on the note, but she didn't want him to know about her cheat sheet yet.

"Slán."

"Thanks," she breathed, taking a step back as Larissa approached.

She took Jim's hand and shook it forcibly. "It was so nice to meet you. I want her home by eight, young man." She hugged Pam. "And great to see you again, sis. Don't be strangers."

He laughed sardonically. "Ever the smartass."

"Thank you, 'Riss," Pam said sincerely. "For everything."

"Don't get sappy on me, babe," she said warningly. "I expect a dinner invitation soon. Your place. You cook. I'll bring the tequila. And maybe Janet. I think you'll like her."

"Sounds like a scandal waiting to happen," she replied with a grin. "It's a deal."

Jim coughed conspicuously into his hand. "Yes, we'd love to meet her."

"Who said you were invited?" Larissa retorted. She shook her head at Pam. "This guy's kinda fresh, you sure he's good enough for you?"

"Oh yeah," she said confidently. "He had a chance to shoot me, but he didn't."

Larissa slapped him on the back. "Aim high, I always say."

"You done?" he smirked.

She pursed her lips, as if thinking hard. "Yeah, that was all the material I had. Good night!"

"Night," Jim echoed, waving as she darted away.

"Slán," Pam called after her retreating back.

"Who taught you that?" she called over her shoulder.

"Jim, duh. Who else?" she giggled.

"I told you that boy was a keeper. Call me. Slán!"

He tilted his head with a cocky grin. "What'd I tell you? Literally nothing to worry about."

With a nod, she conceded. "We really should have dinner with her soon."

"I'd like that… if I'm invited."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Uh, yeah. You think I could handle her, her girlfriend, and a bottle of tequila without you? I need some muscle around in case things go south."

He arranged his face into a boyish pout. "Is that all I am to you?"

"Not all. I mean, you're at least 70% water." She grinned, tongue poking out between her teeth.

Damn she was quick. "How dare you," he grinned back, tacitly admitting defeat. "Come on, let's say our goodbyes and get out of here."

--

As they were leaving, Betsy stepped quickly to the kitchen. "Oh Pam, you almost forgot your foil."

"I'll get it," she reassured Jim. "Wanna start the car?" He looked at her silently for a moment, a smile flirting with the corners of his lips, before heading outside.

"Thanks, Betsy!" she exclaimed, gratefully taking the box. "You've all been so welcoming today, I can't thank you enough."

Maybe not all of us, Betsy thought with a rueful smile. "I'm the one who should be thanking you, sweetie."

Pam responded with a genuine smile. "Between the nerf, the food, and the stories, I had the best time ever."

So gracious, she thought fondly. "It doesn't begin to cover what I owe you, but I want you to have this." She handed over a folded slip of paper.

Owe me? Her brow knit in confusion as she opened it. She looked up with a gasp. "But—Jim said it was a secret." One that her own daughter hadn't even been able to get out of her. 

"It is," she said simply. "And now it's yours."

Flustered, she stammered out, "I—wow... Thank you."

"Don't tell him I gave it to you. Make it for him soon, though. He'll figure it out."

She nodded emphatically. "I will."

"Just be ready to make it every week for the rest of your life."

"Okay," she replied with a shy smile. "Thank you so much. It means the world to me that you would…" She gestured at the paper. "I won't share it with anybody."

"I trust you." 

Feeling overwhelmed, Pam couldn't help but ask, "Why?" Why me? 

"Why do you think?" She gestured sideways with her head. "Don't keep him waiting." 

Pam clasped her in an impulsive hug. "Slán, Betsy."