"So."

"So?"

"Pacey Witter, a high school English teacher. At Capeside High School, of all places. They must be having a heckuva cold spell in hell about now."

Pacey laughed, reaching over to smack her over the head with his menu. "Maybe I was wrong about that exotic dancer thing. Now you're a comedian?"

Joey smiled. This is what she remembered best about Pacey. She threw her worst insults his way, and he took it all in stride. She didn't know anyone else with a better sense of humor. It surprised her how much she'd missed him.

He'd brought her to the country club. Pacey Witter and Joey Potter dining with Capeside's elite at the country club. Another hell-freezing event. And the night was young.

"Tell me about your job," she said. "Seriously. I bet you're a great teacher."

He looked surprised. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, for one thing, you're incredibly patient." Joey leaned her chin on her hand and studied him. The elbow on the table was probably frowned upon, but she couldn't care less. "Remember when you taught me to drive?"

He grinned. "That was an experience I'd rather not repeat."

"Well, Dawson couldn't spend 10 minutes teaching me without jumping down my throat. You never even got mad at me when I --" She bit her lip, but the giggle escaped anyway. "When I drove into the ditch."

"Remember Bessie's face?"

"She couldn't even --"

"-- Say anything."

They both started laughing. An older couple at the next table frowned at them, which only made it worse. They finally got themselves under control as the waiter came to take their order, but Joey almost lost it again when the waiter winked at her.

"I can't take you anywhere," Pacey said, feining disappointment.

She took a deep breath. When was the last time she'd laughed like this? She couldn't remember.

"So tell me," she prodded.

"Well ... it's great, actually. The thing a lot of teachers fail at is getting the kids interested. To get them to care about Dickenson or Shakespeare or Twain is the challenge. You have to show them how all this stuff written ages ago relates to them."

Joey smiled. Pacey couldn't know how happy he looked, talking about teaching and about his students. She was content to listen to him gush -- yes, she decided, he was definitely gushing -- about his job. His love for the work shone in his eyes.

He stopped as the waiter brought their salads. He looked embarrassed. "Geez, Jo, why did you let me go on like that? I've just been babbling for the past 20 minutes."

"I think it's great. You obviously love your job."

"Mmm-hmm." He took a bite of salad. After a moment, he pointed his fork at her. "I have a serious question for you, Josephine."

Joey's stomach clenched. "Serious" was just what she couldn't handle at the moment. She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"Does Skip find his dog, or what?"

She almost choked on her water. "What?"

"I know you've already done the illustrations for that book. I want to know if he finds Max or not."

She was always shocked to come across someone who read the books. Though she didn't write the stories, the books were special to her. The author had given her her first break, while she was still in college. Although she did illustrations for other things, these books were her favorites.

"You read the Skip books?" she asked finally, smiling impishly at him. "I didn't know you could read at that level."

"Well, I'm not quite at that fourth-grade level yet, but I do like the pictures."

"Not only do I know what happens in this one, but I've already gotten the manuscript for the next one."

"Potter."

"Sorry, Pacey. I have a confidentiality agreement with the author."

Joey leaned across the table and whispered, "But I'd bet on Skip. He's a pretty smart kid."

"Whew!" Pacey leaned back and pretended to wipe his brow. "I was pretty worried about him."

Joey just rolled her eyes.

As they walked along the waterfront after dinner, Pacey reached out and took her hand. Joey looked down at their joined hands, then at him. He was looking straight ahead, a smile playing around his lips. Shrugging, she curled her fingers around his.

They came to a bench, and Pacey gently pushed her onto it and sank beside her, still holding her hand. They sat quietly for a while, neither minding the silence.

Joey watched a young couple with their toddler wander past. She sighed.

"What is it, Jo?"

Startled, she looked at him. "Hmm?"

"You looked so sad."

"No, not sad. Just ... don't you sometimes wish ..."

"Wish?"

"That you could be a kid again?" She nodded at the small child. "When your biggest problem was figuring out which block fit in the triangle-shaped hole?"

"I still can't figure that one out."

She laughed softly.

"So," he said.

"So?"

"Got any problems you want to share with the class, Ms. Potter?"

She considered it. She needed to talk to someone. But not yet. She shook her head. "No, Pacey. I'm fine."

She glanced at him. He was staring at her as though he could see into her mind. "And I've got that triangle thing down pat."

"Glad to hear it, Potter. Glad to hear it."