After a little more pestering and the bribe of another (slower, deeper) kiss, Jim agrees to prank call Pam’s mom. She’s glad—she hopes it’ll be like bringing the good parts of work home with her while leaving the bad parts at work. Since the good parts are pretty much Jim, that doesn’t seem too difficult, and honestly, she could do with a laugh right about now. It’s not that she didn’t mean what she just said about her, or Roy, or Jim, but she’s not used to being this direct or determined, and she just needs to relax. Putting her two favorite people in touch with each other in the form of a prank seems like the ideal way to do just that.

Jim dials her mom’s number, and she lies back on his couch and looks at him. She knows there will be days, weeks, maybe even months of awkwardness and stress ahead. She’s going to have to talk to Roy again, get more of her stuff from him, divide up their possessions, give him closure. She’s going to have to get an apartment. She’ll need to figure out this whole dating thing, though at least she doesn’t need to find the person she’ll date. He’s right within arms’ reach, a thought which makes her reach her arms out and touch him to make sure he’s real. He looks over at her with a fond grin (how did she not notice how fond, how adoring his glances were before? Was she really that blind? It’s like putting on glasses for the first time in the second grade: everything that she thought was fine and clear turns out to have been blurry, and the new perspective completely dominates the old) as the phone rings. She’s struck again by how different he looks outside of work clothes, and how happy she is that she’ll get lots and lots of time to explore whole new kinds of Jim.

Her mom picks up as Jim presses speaker.

“Hello, this is Helene Beesly, may I ask who’s calling?”

Jim winks at her and turns on his best salesman voice—a little deeper than normal, full of cheerfulness, just inviting the other person to smile back at him—and replies:

“Ah, yes, this is Jim Halpert from the Dunder Mifflin Paper Company. I’m calling in regards to your email this morning. I understand you’re in urgent need of some paper products?”

Pam stifles a giggle. He’s really good at this, and treating her mom’s email (which was transparently not about paper) as a sales inquiry is not what she expected him to do.

“Oh! Hi Jim. No, this isn’t a business matter. I’m calling about my daughter, Pam. You may recall we met briefly when I came to visit her a little while ago?”

“Pam, Pam…yes, the name certainly rings a bell.”

He’s grinning at her like the Cheshire Cat right before it disappears—all teeth—and she has to try to stifle another giggle that turns into a snort.

“I would imagine it does.” She can hear her mother’s smile through the phone. It’s good to know she’s not the only Beesly who can fall victim to the Halpert charm. “I’m calling because…well, Jim, does the word ‘jam’ mean anything to you?”

“Yes, Mrs. Beesly, it certainly does. I have a jar of raspberry Smuckers in my fridge right now, as it happens.”

Pam snorts again and wanders into the kitchen to check whether this is true, keeping an ear out for the phone. A quick perusal of the fridge reveals that Jim has told nothing but the perfect truth, and her heart warms to note that they apparently prefer the same jam. Not that it’s her favorite condiment, or anything, but still, it’s nice to know.

“Well, Jim, I have a feeling you know what else I might mean by that as well. In fact, when I first emailed you I had some information to pass on regarding that point, something I thought you might need to be aware of for your own good, but since then I’ve learned some new things that rather change what I have to say to you.”

“Oh? And what might that be, Mrs. Beesly?”

“First of all, you can certainly call me Helene. And second, I’ve learned that speakerphones go both ways, Pamela.”

Pam stops short in the kitchen, letting the fridge door swing closed. She didn’t laugh that loudly, did she? But it’s impossible to tell now, because Jim is laughing loudly enough for them both, and she can hear her mother joining in.

“So tell my daughter that I’ve done my meddling in your lives for today, but that she definitely needs to call soon so that her father can talk to her about going with her to Roy’s to get her things tomorrow.”

“Helene, you know I’ll…”

“Jim, I’m sure you’d be more than happy to go with her, but I expect this is something Pam needs to do for herself, or at least without your support. Isn’t that right, Pam?”

She walks back to the couch and sits down next to Jim, rolling her eyes at him. “Yes, mom. I’ll call tonight.”

“That sounds good to me, dear. And congratulations on getting the nerve to tell him. I owe your father five dollars.”

Pam can’t resist asking. “Why’s that, mom?”

“I bet it would take you until tomorrow to work yourself up to show up at Jim’s door.”

Jim guffaws on the seat next to her as she sticks her tongue out first at the phone and then at him.

“Now you two be good. I’ll talk to you later tonight, Pam. Jim, you’re always welcome to call too.”

“Thanks, Helene. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye Jim. Love you Pam.”

“Love you, mom.” This with a final eyeroll at Jim before her mother hangs up.

Jim turns to her.

“So, your mom seems nice.”

She smacks his arm. “You’re just saying that because she likes you.”

“She likes me?” He pumps his fist. “Score one for Halpert.”

“Shut up.” She wanders back into the kitchen, but not far enough to miss hearing his stomach growl. “You hungry? I heard a rumor that there might be some raspberry Smuckers somewhere in here, and I noticed a jar of peanut butter on the counter. And I just happen to have brought” (she unzips her duffel, sitting by the doorway, and pulls out the Bimbo) “some bread you might recognize. We could do PB&J.”

“Sounds perfect. I haven’t really eaten since…well, really since yesterday.”

“Two PB&J coming right up. And then I’ll figure out what I’m going to eat.”

His laughter is music to her ears. She pulls out six slices of bread, layering on the peanut butter and then pulling out the jam. As she opens it, Jim slips off the couch and slides up next to her, slipping his arms around her. She decides, on reflection, that jam definitely is her favorite condiment after all.