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Author's Chapter Notes:

I'm a very visual person, so I have photos to go along with the chapter...Ifyou like to imagine things yourself, don't worry about it and just read...

Pam's work space: http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v136/josie21612/1997_5002_11283_2.jpg

Jim's 1953 Cadillac: http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v136/josie21612/1953_Cadillac.jpg

    "Dunder-Mifflin paper." Pam adjusted her headset slightly. "Hold please." She transferred the line to C4, Mr. Wolfe, from sales. After only a week she wasn't using her cheat sheet anymore. She'd memorized everyone's extension. This job was turning out to be much easier than the one at the telephone company. Less pressure, less to memorize, slower pace. She guessed there were only twenty or thirty calls a day, and never more than three at once. She was lucky enough to be able to spend most of her time reading, but her eyes often left the page and wandered around the office.

Her location in the back gave her a great view of the whole office. It was a large room, desks in perfect lines facing the front door and Mr. Halpert's office. Bright lights hung in rows along the ceiling, tall oak bookshelves and large filing drawers lined the walls. The men in the office all seemed the same: grey or black suit, gold wedding band, cocky demeanor.

As Pam stared at the way Mr. Henslin chewed the back of his pen, Gladys placed a small yellow note on her desk. "Any messages?" Gladys asked robotically. Pam handed her the small stack of papers and she rushed off. Gladys was very skittish, always running around the office, from one desk to another, the filing cabinets, back and forth. She made Pam nervous.

She looked at the yellow note. "From the desk of James Halpert" the top said. Written in squiggly cursive was, "Meeting. 4:30."

The clock said 4:27.

Pam stood and straightened her skirt, and politely asked Gladys to watch the phones. Gladys barely nodded, shuffling her large stack of paper and practically running to her next location.

Pam entered Mr. Halpert's office. It was made of two parts, a front reception room where his secretary, Dottie, sat, and the office itself. Dottie clacked her red fingernails on the typewriter, and smacked her gum like a cow. The roots of her bottle-blonde hair were obvious in this light. Without looking up, she reached over to the intercom and said, "Mr. Halpert, Miss Beesly is here." After an obnoxious buzz, she heard, "Send her in, please." Pam smiled at Dottie, who didn't seem to notice her, before entering the office.

The only person in the building she wasn't afraid of was Mr. Halpert. He was very reserved and spent most of his day at his desk. But whenever he was out and around, his smile was warm and he was kind to everyone.

He now smiled at her from a relaxed position in his chair. Then he noticed her apprehensive face and urged, "Sit, you're not in trouble, I promise."

She eased up and took her seat.

"So, how has your first week gone?" he asked.

"Very well, thank you."

"You're figuring everything out alright?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I guess we're all done here. Enjoy your weekend, Pam."

"Thank you, Mr. Halpert."

He held the door for her. "Please, call me Jim." She just smiled shyly and slipped out the door. Jim looked out to find Dottie scowling behind her typewriter. "She's not married, you know," she informed him condescendingly.

He reminded her, "Neither are you." "But I'm only seventeen; she's what, thirty?" she mocked.

Jim retreated to his office and buzzed the intercom. "Back to work Dottie."


At 4:53, Pam heard the snapping of briefcases behind her. She reached up to switch off the phones but a light began to blink. She huffed and picked up her headset. "Dunder-Mifflin paper."

"Pammy?" The sound was garbled.


"It's me, Roy. I can't come get you at work. I'm on the boss's phone and I need to get back underground. So sorry." And then a click.

Jim was leaving his office when he saw her fallen face across the room. "Is everything alright?" he asked when he reached her side, still pulling on his overcoat

"I need the number for a taxi service." Her voice was small.

"Would you like a lift home?"

She panicked. How would it look if her neighbors saw her in another man's car? "I don't think that would be a good idea," she managed.

He knew Pam was big on manners, but he didn't want her in a cab. "Please, I insist."

After staring at her hands a moment, she said finally, "Alright. Thank you."

He grinned and placed his hat over his slick hair. "I'll be outside when you're ready."

She quietly thanked him again before he headed outside.


"Oh my," escaped from her lips without warning.

He looked over at her, her face lit up like a child's. "That's a Cadillac." 

"It is?" he joked, "I just got it. I'm not sure if I like it yet."

Pam ran her gloved hands over the smooth black curves. "It's so beautiful," she breathed. He watched her bite her lower lip and it made him shiver.

He opened her door, but she stood like a statue, transfixed by the shine of the dashboard. "Would you like to get in?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, of course." She slid in the seat and folded her hands silently. He was angry at himself for startling her. Her smile was gone.

When he started the engine, she breathed in deeply the smell of leather and cigarettes. She hadn't been in a car like this ever in her life. It made Roy's sooty F100 look like junk.

The ride to Pam's home was quiet. The radio played softly. Jim lit up a cigarette, offered one to Pam. She politely declined, and gave him directions. When he almost missed a turn, she slid across the seat and crashed into his side. Her hand rested for a moment on his knee. He smelled wonderful, and his eyes were green.

Embarrassed, she scooted back to her proper place, fussed with her hair and didn't look at him again.

Finally, he pulled into her neighborhood. A dozen identical, adjoined apartments lined the street, each with one window, and four concrete steps leading up to a plain white door. He knew before she pointed it out which one was hers: the only one with curtains in the window and potted plants on the steps.

Before he could get out, she flung open her own door and rushed up to her steps.

He grinned, knowing why she had rushed out. "See you on Monday, Pam," he called and before she could speak, he added, "Please, call me Jim."

She smiled at the door before she turned. "Good evening, Mr. Halpert."

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