Pam was preparing herself to be disappointed in Jim’s apartment options: not because she didn’t trust his judgment—she did, honestly, more than she felt like she should for someone she’d known a comparatively small amount of time, although the time she’d spent with Jim definitely felt more significant than most time she spent doing other things—but because, well, the kinds of apartments two young guys looked at weren’t really likely to be the kinds of apartments one young woman wanted. Especially not young, fit, athletic guys and small mousy artsy-fartsy girls. So while she trusted that Jim thought these might be good fits, she was working hard to tamp down her own expectations.

The first place only confirmed for her that while Jim was trying, and she appreciated it, his and Mark’s needs just hadn’t been the same as hers. It had a large room that she guessed they’d imagined as a gaming room or workout room or something, and would have been perfect as a studio for her—if it had any light at all. The bedroom, she had to admit, had a huge window that let in natural light, but it wasn’t big enough for a studio and there wasn’t a real closet in the other room. Admittedly, she hadn’t spent all that long looking at the details of the bedroom—something about standing with Jim Halpert in a room that was even potentially going to be her future bedroom and contemplating where the bed might go made her breathing get light—but she was pretty sure it wasn’t right. And the kitchen was all wrong—Jim and Mark probably didn’t cook much, and honestly she didn’t love it either, but if she was going to have a kitchen she was going to be able to open the dishwasher and the oven at the same time. The location was gorgeous, and she could see Nay Aug Park out the bedroom window, but…no. It was lovely of Jim to try, but no.

She tried to find the words to tell him this herself as they walked over to the other place—he’d parked in between them and they were strolling side by side down a leafy, idyllic street that made her long for the other apartment to be even just good enough so that she could live in this neighborhood—but her tongue just wouldn’t do it. Why ruin things? She could enjoy this walk even if she didn’t have any expectations—she didn’t—for the other place.

She smiled up at Jim, who was telling her something about the woman…Gladys?...who owned the place, looking absolutely adorably intent. She could tell that he’d been hoping she’d like the first place, and that he clearly could tell in turn, even though she had tried hard not to say anything too negative, that she didn’t. So now he was doing his best to prepare her for the other one—apparently Gladys talked a lot?—and that was just so sweet. He was always like that. So sweet. So cute. Especially when he got excited and his hair started flopping around.

“And here we are.” Apparently in getting lost in Jim’s hair she’d missed the fact that they had come to a stop, and now he was looking at her, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “Care to come in, Beesly?”

“Lead on.” She gestured expansively towards the door and he knocked and the door was opened by the smallest, most wizened little woman that she’d ever seen.

“James Halpert!” Gladys looked him up and down. “So, my upstairs wasn’t good enough for you?”

“Hello ma’am. It’s not that…you know I told you Mark’s knees were killing him.” He swept the little woman into a hug. “But it was so sweet of you to offer it to us. And you know, ma’am, I think I might have found you a better tenant.”

“Better than you? That’s not too hard.” She slapped his shoulder playfully and turned to Pam. “Hello, dearie, I’m Gladys Wilson, and, for my sins, I was this young rascal’s third-grade teacher.” Well, that explained why he called her ma’am, Pam thought inanely. Gladys lowered her voice to a hoarse whisper. “And don’t tell anyone, but I taught his mother too.”

“Come on, ma’am, no one believes that. You don’t look a day over…” Jim looked down at her speculatively and Gladys looked back with challenge in her eyes.

“Go on, young man.” She turned to Pam. “He should know better than to start a sentence he doesn’t know how to end.”

“He does that.” Pam stuck out her hand and received a surprisingly firm handshake. “Pamela Beesly, ma’am.” Somehow it felt right to give this woman her full first name.

“Now, now, Pamela, I didn’t have to teach you how to spell, you can call me Gladys.” Gladys stepped around Jim and gestured up the steps. “Would you like to see the place? I don’t know about Jim’s other friend’s knees,” she shot him a sharp look “but I can take this flight of stairs just fine, and I’m old enough that I was gray when I taught Jim.” Jim sighed and shook his head, and Pam followed Gladys up the stairs, listening carefully as she pointed out the small details of Victorian décor in the stairwell. “My late husband bought that in Cairo,” she said, pointing to a particularly garish wall hanging in the landing. “I didn’t like it myself, so now it lives up here.” She turned a key in the lock in the door. “It’s the same entrance for both my part and this one, but we each have a different lock on the inside and I’m a heavy sleeper.” She winked and Pam felt her cheeks heat up. Gladys opened the door and waved Pam through into a furnished parlor. “You can bring you own things if you want—I can clear things out—but the place comes furnished if you want it to. My late husband, god bless the man, could just not resist a deal.” The room had wallpaper on it with fruits and gourds intertwined with a fascinating almost magenta hue. It ought to have been horrid, but Pam found it oddly soothing.

“That sounds great.” She didn’t have any particular attachment to any of the furniture in the house she’d shared with Roy. It was all functional, but he’d resisted her desire to acquire the big heavy heirloom furniture she loved—and that this room was full of. There was an overstuffed armchair in the corner under an antique lamp that she could just imagine curling up in with a good book. But Gladys was already leading her on. “This is the bedroom,” she gestured to a warm, homey room with a giant closet and master bath. “This is the kitchen, obviously,” in a room with seemingly a million cabinets, a gas oven and range, and surprisingly up-to-date countertops. “This is the back room; it’s not technically a bedroom, because of some silly fire code issue they invented in the 1980s,” she sniffed, “but in my opinion it’s the nicest room in the house. Shame no one can sleep in it.”

She might have said more, but Pam didn’t hear it. The room was perfect. A huge bay window with a built-in seat bringing in tons of natural light, with heavy curtains that would clearly let her paint by lightbulb if the natural light was ever wrong. Large enough to set everything up; walls painted a neutral color with an off-white ceiling; an ideal studio in fact. She twirled around in joy and saw identical smiles on Jim’s and Gladys’s faces at her excitement.

She marshaled herself for disappointment in a different direction. “How much is this place?”

Gladys smiled. “For a friend of James?” She named a number well within Pam’s prospective price range, and seemed to enjoy the way Pam’s jaw dropped. “I’m fairly picky about who I keep company with.” She sniffed. “Though you wouldn’t know it from the fact that I offered the place to James, of course.”

“Thank you for that, ma’am.” Jim was laughing. “I’m sure Pam would like a little time to make a decision?” He turned to her. “Maybe a walk in Nay Aug Park?”

“Of course, of course, take your time.” Gladys twinkled at them both. “I’ll be here.” She took Jim by the shoulder and whispered in his ear. “Nice to meet you, Pamela. Do let me know about the apartment.” She showed them out the front. “Goodbye, James. Tell Elizabeth hello.”

“I will.” He hustled Pam out of the house and when they heard the click of the door they both burst out laughing.