A/N: This is by far my favourite chapter so far. I literally rewrote everything I had from this point on (which wasn't much but it's taken me four hours to do it!) so I could make this perfect. It's the longest chapter, but it's worth it -- you'll see. And it all fell into place so beautifully that nothing could be left out. Chapter title is inspired by the Feist song "Mushaboom" from her album Let it Die. I highly recommend listening to the songs mentioned in this chapter as you read it. I hope you like it! More to come very soon!! :)
When Pam awoke the next morning, sunlight suffused the room and it took her a moment to realize where she was. Stretching out, she rubbed her eyes and looked around, her eyes finally settling on a small vase on the table next to the bed. She reached over for her glasses, and when she finally put them on, the scene came into sharp focus. A single stemmed daisy greeted her with its bright smile, and as she saw the folded note leaning against the vase, she returned the gesture. The note was short and sweet, written on hotel stationary:
Pam,
I am in meetings and on the trade show floor all day. But you'll be thinking of me all day, I promise. Call the front desk. Breakfast is on its way.
Jim
So Pam called the front desk, intrigued. The cheerful voice on the other end seemed to be expecting her call, for she knew her name.
"Good morning, Miss Beesly. Your breakfast is coming right up."
Pam smiled and took a moment to straighten herself up and put on her robe. The knock from room service came too quickly and she raced to the door to let them in. As she was setting down the silver tray on the edge of the bed, the young woman winked at Pam. "Keep him, honey."
"Did he pay you to say that?" Pam asked.
"No," she replied, "But any man who goes through the trouble to do all this is a great catch." She began to push her cart back out through the door, pausing as she neared the doorway. "Plus, he's cute."
Pam laughed. He certainly is, she thought to herself as she skipped over to the tray and lifted the lid. Underneath was a single container of mixed berries yogurt and a small sealed envelope. Pam wanted to cry. How Jim had gone through the trouble of setting it all up was beyond her, and it was overwhelming. She briefly considered calling him, but knew it was part of the game and that she would have to wait. Before she tore into the yogurt, she opened the envelope. In Jim's masculine hand was hard to mistake; he titled the list in front of her "Top Ten All-Time Things To Get You Through a Lazy Tuesday". Only #1, #2, and #3 were written on the page. The first bullet instructed Pam to eat breakfast. #2 was apologetic.
Pam
I know it's not enough to just have yogurt for breakfast. So when you're done consuming this fine mixture of bacterially fermented milk… get dressed. You should find my iPod in your shoe. It is pre-loaded with the music and lyrics of some of Canada's finest musical talent. When you leave the hotel and walk onto the street, task #2 is to press play and walk down the street away from the harbour. When the first song is over, you should be standing next to a bakery on the corner. (Make sure you pause the song.) Task #3 is to ask the baker if you can help him make his daily batch of éclairs. Buy one and enjoy.
More instructions to follow.
Pam held the letter to her chest and rolled over to bury her face in the comforter. Nothing made sense to her at the moment, but she reasoned that it wasn't supposed to, that Jim would bring it all together in the end. She would follow the list to a 'T', just because he had asked her to. And in trusting Jim, she knew it was going to be a good day.
--
Pam was sitting in the small artisan bakery café, enjoying an éclair she had made herself with the help of a baker named Etienne, and taking small sips of the most delicious cappuccino she had ever tasted. The song Jim had picked – a happy, east coast flavoured romp by Great Big Sea called "Ordinary Day" – was playing around and around in her head. She still had no idea what task #4 was going to be, but she waited patiently for whatever she was supposed to be waiting for.
Finally, Etienne walked over to clear her plate from the table. Pam reached into her purse and was about to pull out money to pay for her meal and the experience, when Etienne rested his pudgy baker's hand on hers.
"No no no," he said, "The young man has taken care of it all. He has left this for you," he winked at Pam. "A beautiful day for a beautiful lady."
Pam blushed and looked down at the envelope on the table. A smile crept onto her lips as she tore into the seal and read Jim's words again.
Pam,
Now that you've really enjoyed your breakfast, you have the energy to walk again. This is your 4th task. I want you to go out onto the sidewalk again. Press play on the iPod and head north out of the bakery. When Joni tells you about the rainbow she saw on the wall, look to your right. You should see a used bookstore. Go inside and scour the shelves for a well-loved copy of the book The Lover's Watch by Aphra Behn, noted female English Restoration playwright extraordinaire. Turn to page 15.
Jim
Intrigued, Pam got up from her seat and began the walk to the bookstore.
--
Pam stepped inside the bookstore and turned off the iPod, silencing Joni Mitchell as she crooned about colours in "Chelsea Morning". The first thing Pam noticed was the suncatcher in the window of the bookstore. As the mornng sun shone in the window and reflected its light through a beautiful and brightly coloured windchimes in the shape of seashells, Pam smiled. Taking in the scent of leather and lavender as she inhaled, Pam looked around her. It was in an old building, separated in half by a staircase that led to a second level of books. The walls were lined with bookcases and thousands of books, new and old, spilled out in the most haphazard, delightful manner. She promptly commenced browsing, searching through the fiction shelves for the book Jim was referring to.
She found it on the second shelf near the back of the store on the second level. It was a small volume, not even 100 pages in length, and it looked quite old. Opening the front cover, she found it to have been published in 1885. She had never held anything that old before. It gave her shivers. The binding creaked when she opened it and held it open with her pinky while she gingerly leafed through the pages to the one she wanted. As she did, a small piece of notepaper fell out to her feet. She bent down to pick it up, but didn't read it right away; her eyes were drawn to the page, where she gleaned enough about the story to catch Jim's intention right away, and she smiled. Someone – possibly Jim – had underlined one of the passages with a pencil. Pam read out loud in a whispery, sing-song voice:
"Every hour is tedious to a lover separated from his mistress; and to show you how good I am, I will have my watch instruct you to pass some of them without inquietude, that the force of your imagination may sometimes charm that trouble you have for my absence."
With a lopsided grin, Pam opened the folded note. She wasn't surprised to find that it was from Jim.
Pammaroo,
Short story shorter: Iris instructs Damon on how to spend his time in each of the hours they are apart, in case he should get it in his mind to stray while she is away. Don't worry, I trust you. But at least you're thinking of me. #5 on your task list is to go next door and ask to pick up an order under my name; #6 is to find singing seashells in every colour of the rainbow. Feel free to reverse the order of operations if necessary.
Big Tuna
Knowing that Jim had been in the store that morning, had written the note and sought out such a perfect book in which Pam should find her next clue, and that he had noticed the same windchimes – the singing seashells – made Pam tingle inside. She hurried down the stairs, book in hand, and asked if she could buy the windchimes. The salesgirl behind the counter smiled knowingly. "You must be Pam," she said, ringing in the book and the chimes. It almost made Pam want to cry.
Items in hand, Pam floated next door to the flower shop.
"I'm here to pick up an order for Jim Halpert," she said confidently. Moments later, she was holding a bouquet of multi-coloured roses in her arms, all of them in full bloom. Once again, the order was paid for. But another surprise greeted her when the man behind the counter presented her with a white box, with an envelope taped to the lid. Curious, she retreated to the bench outside the store, whereupon opening the envelope, she found another note.
Pam,
Task #7: There are 13 roses in this bouquet. I want you to give 12 of them away to people you meet on the street; keep the nicest one for yourself. You must give one to a woman with blond hair, one to an older gentleman in a hat, one to a pair of young lovers, and one to a child. The rest can be given away as you see fit. You also must document each gift; open the box.
J
So Pam did. Inside was a disposable camera. Underneath it was a second envelope, with #8 written on the front, above strict directions not to open the envelope until the last rose was given away. With a chuckle, Pam closed the lid on the box and set out on her journey.
--
An hour later, Pam had given away all but the last rose, and had documented each one. Most people were surprised at Pam's request, but they were generally very happy to oblige. The older gentleman had posed with the pink rose she gave him stuck in the brim of his houndstooth cap; the woman with the blond hair struck a pose with the yellow rose between her teeth. The little girl Pam found held it like a balloon; Pam gave the girl's mom one too. It had been such a wonderful experience, and Pam felt so uplifted, that she forgot about the second envelope taped to the bottom of the box. She opened the letter and read its contents as she took a break from walking on a park bench along the harbour.
Beesly,
I trust you have been having an enjoyable day so far. While I have been stuck in meetings, you have been gallivanting around Halifax, buying things and eating things and reading things and giving things away. Now, for #8, do something nice for yourself. There is a boutique around the block from the National Citadel Historical site. Go there and buy yourself a beautiful dress to wear tonight.
Halpert
Pam had no idea where the citadel was, so she asked. The first person pointed down the street and indicated that she was only a few blocks away. She set off again, her feet starting to ache, but the shop wasn't far away. It looked fancy and chic but also very trendy. At first glance, she didn't think any of the dresses inside would be suitable. But after introducing herself to the salesgirls inside, they coyly told her that they knew which dress would be the right one. From behind the counter, they pulled a beautiful yellow sundress, slightly flared at the knee, as bright as the daisy's centre sitting on Pam's nightstand at the hotel.
"Jim picked it out this morning," the first salesgirl told her.
"He has great taste," Pam lightly fingered the dress. It was in her size; she tried it on and it fit like a glove. As she went to pay for it, she discovered that Jim had beat her to the punch again. And when the salesgirl handed her the bag, she slipped yet another envelope into Pam's hand. With a sigh, Pam opened it and found her next task.
Pamela,
Take #9: You are about two city blocks from one of the most beautiful places in Halifax, in my opinion. Turn on the iPod again – I hope you haven't been cheating and listening to it when I didn't tell you to! Press play and walk west. When the song changes, you should be there. You'll know it when you see it.
James
So Pam did as she was told. The first song – by Bedouin Soundclash, it was a reggae inspired pop song called "When The Night Feels My Song", that made Pam want to dance – brought her to the edge of the Public Gardens. The second song, by Halifax native Feist, entitled "Mushaboom", took her to the edge of a beautiful lake. She had a few pictures left on her camera, and knew she was supposed to use them up here. As she viewed the lake through the viewfinder, she spotted a tree that hung down into the lake, and a bench sitting underneath it. A small package dangled from the arm of the bench. She approached, thinking that there was no way Jim could have left something like this in the middle of a park. But hers was not to question how; she saw the ribbon and the envelope, with Pam's name written on the front in Jim's handwriting, and she opened it up to read.
Miss Beesly,
I hope you are enjoying the view. I walked through this park this morning and decided this is where you should end your adventure. One day, I'd like to sit here with you on this park bench and watch the ducks and talk with you about whatever you want to talk about. But for now, you must content yourself with the knowledge that in a few hours, you and I will embark on a date to end all dates. Your 10th task of the day, then, is to return to the hotel room and take the perfect bath before getting ready for that date. I will call you at 5 o'clock. You'd better be ready, Beesly.
Happily yours,
Mr. Halpert
He signed his name with a smiley face. Pam sat for a while, watching the lake and enjoying the crisp autumn afternoon. Then, with her bags in hand and every letter from Jim safely tucked away inside her purse, she began the trek back to the hotel.
--
At 4:55pm, Pam stood in front of the full-length mirror in the hotel room admiring her new dress. She put effort into tousling her hair into soft waves instead of a curly mass, and spent a full forty-five minutes doing her makeup. It had been hard to concentrate. She was giddy from the excitement of her day, and dreamy from the bath. Jim had had a basket of bubble bath and rose petals brought up to the room, and had been cheeky enough to write down step-by-step instructions for how to run the bath and what to do once she was in there. It had made her laugh and blush and remember just how lucky she was to be there.
As the clock shifted over to 5pm, Pam's phone rang. Right on time, she thought. The butterflies in her stomach took flight as she flipped open the phone to talk to Jim for the first time all day.
"Hello?"
"Hi, I'm looking for a Miss Pamela Beesly," Jim tried to disguise his voice with an awful British accent.
She smiled, "Oh, she's stepped away for a moment, may I take a message."
"That would be agreeable," he said, "If you could relay the message that her gentleman friend will be expecting her in the hotel lobby presently, I would be most grateful."
"Consider it done," she smiled as she flipped her phone closed, took a deep breath, and walked out of the room, more confident and feeling happier than she'd felt in a long time.