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Author's Chapter Notes:
Pam talks to her parents.

So on the one hand, it turned out that her parents (well, her dad) were rather sticks in the mud about what colors she could paint her room. “After all,” he’d said with a soft smile that still annoyed her, all the more because it was soft, “isn’t the theory that you’re going to move out again? And your mother and I really don’t want to have to repaint the walls again ourselves. Think of my back!”

On the other, they still had more cans of the original paint for her bedroom walls (and Penny’s, and theirs, and most of the house—they’d bought a lot of this paint) down in the basement in Dad’s so-called workspace which was really more of a place for him to read his interminably long Civil War histories in peace. There it was, in a cabinet. She wasn’t going to question why her dad had held on to that stuff, or why they’d overbought by so much (had they gotten a deal? Had he had some idea of painting more parts of the house, or repainting more often? Had he miscalculated and been too stubborn to admit defeat—or had Mom?) because it was a godsend to her that even if she didn’t get to pick the color, she got to repaint.

And so repaint she did.

It certainly occurred to her while she was slapping up new paint on the walls that it was highly ironic that this was more actual painting with physical paints than she’d done in years. In fact, she decided to text this to Jim, only realizing then that she’d left her phone on the kitchen table at lunch (at which point she remembered why: no point in risking it accidentally getting painted).

Her mom looked up from the table as she walked into the room. The Beesleys ate late, a relic from when Pam’s mom had had a long commute, so even after hours of painting it was still not dinner time, and so her mom was still ensconced at the table.

“Oh, here, honey.” Her mom handed her the phone. “You got a text from an unknown number, I didn’t know if I should delete it.”

Pam was hit with the sudden realization that she had not actually saved Jim’s number in the phone, just texted him—and with the follow-on discovery that if her mom found out that the text was from the same person that Izzy had mentioned to her, she was never going to get that phone back without a full-on interrogation.

“Oh, I had a new client. Let me see if that’s them.” She wasn’t technically lying—she did have a new client—but that client was very firmly ensconced in her phone under her proper name. “Thanks.”

She didn’t grab the phone outright, but it was a near-run thing.

“Oh, Pam?” Her mom’s voice raised at the end of the short sentence, which was a tell. “What’s this I hear about a new man in your life?” When Pam did her best to glare at the person who gave her birth in an appropriately quelling manner, she raised her hands defensively. “I just want you to be happy.”

“It’s just very new, Mom.” She sighed. “And we’re taking it very slow, don’t worry. I’m not going to end up living in sin and betraying my values again anytime soon.”

“That was your grandmother, not me.” Her mom let her hands fall onto the table and pick at the edge of the label on the Coke bottle she had been drinking when Pam walked in. “I don’t care where you live or who you live with as long as you’re actually happy and thriving. I hope you know that.” She sighed. “And you have had a spring in your step the last few weeks—especially today—so I do hope you are happy. ”

“I am, Mom.” Pam gave up the idea of doing more painting—she’d gotten the base coat on the wall anyway, and she didn’t really need to move the things back into the room if Penny wasn’t coming home tonight—and sat down next to her mom at the table. “I really am.” She leaned her head on her mom’s shoulder and accepted the way her mom immediately patted her on the head. “And you’re right. He’s the reason I’m repainting the room—not that he’s going to be staying there anytime soon!” She straightened up in a panic. “It’s just…he made me realize that I want to move forward.”

“If he can do that for you, then I like him already.” Her mom kissed her on the forehead. “What’s his name? If you don’t mind my asking?”

Pam unlocked her phone and opened the texting app. “Jim.” She glanced at the text, actually three texts in a row, sent several hours ago by now.

glad you’re ok

miss you here

Dwight says he will drink all the tea if you don’t come back

“From the way you’re smiling at your phone, I’m going to assume that isn’t a new client after all.” Her mom chuckled softly. “As I said, I think I like this Jim already.”

Chapter End Notes:
Next: the full Pam remodel, Pam 2.0. Thanks for reading!

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