We open at Joey's house, or should I say, the newly-remodelled Potter Bed & Breakfast, where Joey, Dawson and Pacey are watching The Big Chill on TV. "Who are these people?" Joey frowns at the TV. "I mean, they're dancing. Nobody dances in the kitchen." "Your parents danced in the kitchen," Dawson replies. "My parents love this movie. This is, like, the definitive movie of the entire Baby Boom Generation."
The cynical Miss Potter isn't sold on the concept, though. "Do your parents dance in the kitchen?" she asks Pacey, who smirks at the mere thought of such bizzare imagery. "My parents? No, they definitely don't dance in the kitchen." Joey sighs, and thrusts a bowl of popcorn at Dawson. "I don't know,"he shrugs, defending his choice of film for the evening. "I took all the movie pictures off my wall, everything's in question ... I figured why not something unexpected for movie night?" He then apologizes to Joey for frazzling her nerves on what was meant to be a calming, peaceful evening.
She isn't placated, though. "This Bed & Breakfast has been open for a day -- a very costly Bed & Breakfast mind you -- and there are no guests. Have either one of you checked the reservations list? There's not a name to be found, not a one." "Joey, it takes time to establish a reputation," Dawson begins, but she won't let him get far. "Bessie and I have invested every dime we have," Joey whines. "Along with guests, time is another thing that we don't have."
Her rant is interrupted by a ringing telephone. "Potter Bed & Breakfast, can I help you?" Joey begins hopefully, but almost instantly, her tone changes. "No, actually I'm perfectly content with my long distance service, thank you ..." Pacey and Dawson exchange suppressed smiles. "But how 'bout you?" Joey continues into the receiver. "Thinking about a vacation? Come to the Cape, take a room at our lovely ..." Sighing in frustration, she hangs up. "She hung up on me. A telemarketer hung up on me," Joey tells her friends incredulously.
"Come on, Jo," Pacey smiles. "Keep the faith." "Is that all you have to say, considering that you were the primary force that escorted Bessie and I down this road to economic ruin?" she snaps. "All I did was figure out a way to kick in some free labour," Pacey replies in his own defense, as viewers across the nation debate what type of insect has crawled up Joey's butt and died there. "You, Pacey Witter, single-handedly encouraged this pipe dream!" she snipes. "I mean, you should know better than going around inspiring financially and spiritually bereft people, people who have no business being inspired!" (I vote for a rather large dung beetle, myself.)
The second interruption of her ranting comes in the form of a knock at the door. Frozen like a deer in headlights, Joey nervously glances at Dawson and Pacey. "Feet," she orders Pacey, who has propped his legs up on the coffee table. After patting down her hair and pasting a smile on her face, Joey opens the door, revealing a rather pleasant-looking man and woman. "Can I help you?"
"Hi," The woman answers warmly. "We were wondering ..." Joey is all ears. "Yes?" The man picks up where the woman left off. "... Have you accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as your personal saviour?" He passes her a religious brochure. "God loves you." Inside, Pacey and Dawson chuckle quietly as Joey stands rooted to the spot, her smile fading fast.
At school the next morning, Jen and Henry meet on the way to class. Jen enquires about the boy wonder's whereabouts over the past few weeks, and he replies that he's been working at The Bass restaurant, fixing their roof problems. "Expensive place," Jen notes. "They better pay you well." "They did," Henry nods. "But instead of cash I opted for a free dinner."
Jen frowns. "The implication being?" "That you and I are gonna meet there," Henry replies. (He's determined, I'll give him that much. But I still loathe him.) "That's funny," Jen smiles grimly, "Because I don't recall being asked." "You weren't," he agrees. "See, I finally figured you out, Jen. Given the opportunity to say no, you do. So, I'm not giving you the opportunity." "But then you're also not giving me the opportunity to say yes," she points out.
"Would you? Say yes?" Henry asks hopefully. "Probably not," she admits, deflating what little ego he has. He recovers nicely though. "So I'm not asking." "Henry, we've been over this before," Jen rolls her eyes. "Dating is a consensual activity." "Don't get ahead of yourself, I never called it a date. I said we'd eat dinner, you know, get to know each other." (Cocky little brat, isn't he?) "I've been around the block enough to spot a date in sheep's clothing," Jen retorts, and Henry proves yet again why he is unworthy of breathing the same air as her, let alone dating her: "Do you really think a kid like me would deem to consider himself worthy of dating a woman of your silk?"
"Ilk." Jen frowns, exasperated. "It-it's ilk." "See my point?" Henry replies, both proving not only that a kid like him does indeed want to date her, but also why she she should run screaming from the school at the mere thought of such a proposition. "What's it gonna be?" the puppydog yips. "It's gonna be, let me think about it," Jen tells him. (In other words, Heel. Sit. Stay. Now roll over and play dead, except without the playing part. Good dog.)
"Now we're talking!" he grins. Jen is quick to point out that she didn't say yes, and Henry is even quicker to counter that she didn't say no, either. "Yeah, but I didn't say yes!" Jen shouts after him as he scampers down the hall, late for class.
Further down the hall, Andie is struggling to design the school play's programme on her cool blueberry iBook. "I have 42 ads, 10 bios and a director's note that I have to turn into a playbill by Monday," she wails to Jack. "In addition to which, I have to pick up the posters, hang them around town, get the tickets to the community box office and check to make sure the local paper's running our ad next week. Oh, and did I mention that I'm a student with a little obligation called homework?"
"You're not very familiar with this layout program, are you?" her brother asks, peering over her shoulder. "Each of your words is in a different font." "It's a style choice," Andie insists. Jack blinks. "And upside down." "It's a bold style choice," she insists some more. "Yeah, right" Jack giggles, gently taking the iBook from her and sitting down.
"What are you doing?" Andie frowns. "Helping out a wayward sister," he replies, marvelling at how she manges to keep everything together. "I mean, personally I wouldn't be able to handle all this." "You would if you had a supportive family to come home to every night," Andie comments quietly. Jack doesn't swallow that bait, though. "Thanks, but I'm happy where I am." "You couldn't be happy at home?" she challenges. "Not with him there, no," Jack replies.
Andie insists their father misses him, but Jack laughs it off. "Yeah, I'm sure he does. All those father-son heart-to-hearts we used to have --" "It'll be different," she tells him. Jack's still suspicious, though. "He knows that I don't want to move home, so he enlists you to speak for him. That's what this is, isn't it?" The game is up, and instead of admitting the truth, Andie walks away, telling her brother thanks for his help, but she can manage on her own.
Joey and Bessie pay a visit to the bank, where the loans officer used to go to school with Bessie. "Bess, I gotta be honest with you," she tells her, apologetic. "I spoke to our manager about you -- I made a personal plea. But you're a single mother with multiple dependents, and an income-to-debt ratio that doesn't even qualify for our most liberal profile."
"Is there something you could suggest?" Bessie asks. "Some solutions?" The woman suggests doing what a lot of small businesses do -- leveraging their assets. "Unfortunately, our Microsoft options have been called and our yacht is in hock," Joey snipes. Ignoring her, the loans office asks if bessie has ever thought about taking out a mortgage on the house, as it is paid for, free and clear. Much to Joey's shock and horror, Bessie asks for an application.
Cut to the drive home from the bank, where Joey lays into her sister for even thinking about the idea. "Bess, it's our house! Where we live! The only connection we have to Mom. How could you even think about it?" Wearily, Bessie tells her that everything has taken longer and cost more than they expected, and that if there's a way to take a little out, then maybe they should.
Full of self-importance, Joey insists her sister can't do something like this without her approval, and she isn't giving it. "Actually, I can," Bessie replies, growing more annoyed by the minute (and rightly so). "I'm an adult, you're a 16-year-old girl." "I am your sister," Joey shouts. "A part of this family! If this thing doesn't work out, I lose my house -- the only tangible connection that I have--"
"She left it to me, Joey!" Bessie yells. "Just like she left me in charge around here until you turn 18. That's a responsibility you can't understand!" "I know all about responsibility!" Joey counters. "Do you?" her sister counters. "Because until you know what it's like to humiliate yourself by asking some trust-fund snob who looked down on you in high school for money, I don't want to talk about it with you anymore!"
With that, Bessie storms inside just as Dawson approaches. Joey stares at the camcorder in his hand, a question on her lips. He shrugs. "I figure, even if my film career is in no man's land, I can still at least put this thing to good use, right?" Joey asks what he plans on doing. "Making a virtual tour of Capeside's newest B & B. If we post this thing on the Web, if we get it to all the Cape Cod visitor information sites--"
"Dawson, we don't exactly have the money for such frivolous things known as advertising," Joey whines rather ungratefully. "Which is where this comes in," he smiles. She sighs. "Look, I really appreciate the offer but ..." (You do? Could have fooled me) "No buts, Jo," he affirms. "This is actually a really good idea. I mean, look at this place. Who wouldn't want to come stay here if they could see it from every angle and meet the charming proprietors beforehand?"
Inside, Dawson turns his camera on Joey for a testimonial, but she wears her trademarked frown and stares at the lens moodily. "Uh, Joey? If you could try to look welcoming that would be great, because anxiety really doesn't fit in with this whole homey, come-stay-with-us thing we're going for." "Dawson, I do toilets and I do windows. I draw the line at faux perkiness," she mutters.
Just then, Pacey comes in, beaming. "Let me tell ya, kiddies, we are looking good!" Joey gives him some of her patented attitude. "What canary did you swallow?" "Well," he replies, "After having felt just a teensy, weensy little bit of guilt over having wrongfully inspired this establishment, I took it upon myself to expose the Potter B & B to the outside world via the mighty pen of Mr. Frederick Fricke."
"Fred who?" Dawson asks on behalf of us all. "Fricke," Pacey repeats. "He's, I don't know, he's like the Roger Ebert of the B & B world. Writes for Travel, Travel and Leisure, and most importantly, he writes for the New York Times' Travel section, the next edition of which will have nothing but glowing things to say about this establishment, because one Mr. Fred Fricke is frequenting here."
Joey can't believe her ears. "He's coming here? Are you insane? Have you seen the half-finished room? Have you tasted Bessie's blueberry pancakes? We're not ready for something like this! Not to mention that we don't have any guests--" "I beg to differ," Pacey interrupts. "We do have guests. Not only do we have guests, we have the perfect guests for the perfect heartwarming weekend at your local B & B. Guests, if you would, please?"
Grams walks in the room with Jen, Jack and Andie in tow, as Pacey explains, "We have the sweet, God-fearing grandmother here to help her grandkids try to reconnect to the magical Creekside village where she frolicked as a little girl." "I'll need an 8 a.m. wake-up call," Andie jokes. "I take my OJ freshly squeezed," Jack adds with a smile. "Black coffee for me," Jen deadpans, "and God help you if you wake me up before noon."
"And just to make sure that our home is filled with happy, boisterous people," Pacey continues, "We have a loving married couple here to spend a romantic weekend getaway." To Dawson's utter dismay and Joey's acute embarassment, Mitch and Gale enter the room.
A few minutes later, Joey, Pacey and Dawson are having a tete-a-tete-a-tete. "One minor detail, Pacey," Joey fumes. "Don't you think you could've asked me first?" "You think you could've left my parents out of it?" Dawson adds. "It was reckless," she admonishes. "And insensitive," he agrees.
"Okay, one at a time, shall we?" Pacey soothes his best friends, pointing at Dawson. "Starting with you. I only asked Mitch to help, okay? It was his idea to bring Gale along." "His idea?" Dawson is surprised. "Yes, his idea," Pacey reiterates. "So if you want to tear somebody's head off, why don't you try the guy that sired you?" Shifting his attention to Joey, he asks her how she could possibly be so ungrateful "after just having witnessed an outpouring of love and support that would've made George Bailey proud?"
She attacks him like a postal worker with PMS. "There is nothing wonderful about my life right now, okay?" Joey snaps, referring, of course, to It's A Wonderful Life, Capra's 1946 Christmas classic, in which George Bailey was the main protagonist. But back to reality. Joey shoves the phone at Pacey. "I don't care how you do it, but you get Mr. Fricke on the phone and you tell him that there is no room at the inn."
Pacey wants to know why. "Because you don't show a movie reviewer a rough cut, and you don't serve a food critic your first stab at a new recipe. Especially if that recipe is your last chance of keeping a roof over your head," Joey shouts, almost on the verge of tears. Instantly, both Pacey and Dawson pick up on the last part and ask her to clarify what she meant by "last chance."
"Bessie is thinking about taking out a mortgage," she tells them, humilated. "A mortgage?" Dawson is upset for her. "You can't let her risk the house!" "Dawson, does the term 'legal guardian' mean anything to you?" Joey sighs. Pacey is crestfallen, too, and promises to make it right straight away, but before he can do anything, there's a knock at the door. Joey answers, to find a dour-looking man with a small suitcase. "Don't tell me, the Fuller Brush Man?" she asks, the sarcasm dripping from her voice.
"Hardly." The man gives Joey a business card. "Fred Fricke, Bed & Breakfast Quarterly. Is now a bad time?" Joey's face falls. "No ... not at all." She exchanges worried glances with Dawson and Pacey, as Fricke stares at her with an air of contempt.
To Dawson's dismay, his parents are staying in the honeymoon suite. Gale tells him it's just to help out Joey and Bessie, and that later tonight, after Fricke goes to bed, Mitch will leave to go home and sleep. "Don't you think it might be a little confusing, even hurtful to the child of a divorce to see his parents play-acting a happy marriage?" Dawson asks. Mitch repeats that they're there just to help out. "Dad, Pacey asked you to help out. He didn't say anything about Mom," Dawson corrects. Mitch tells his son that he's seeing something dark and complex when there isn't anything there. "You know what I'm seeing?" he demands, clearly very upset. "I'm seeing two people who don't know what the hell they want, and I'm sick of it."
Fricke is poking about the B & B when Joey approaches and asks if there is anything else she can get for him. "Heat," he replies succinctly. "It's freezing in here." She rushes to the thermostat and checks it, explaining all the while they're an environmentally friendly inn that likes to conserve natural resources, not to mention save on energy bills.
He's barely satisfied with this explanation, but then gets upset all over again at the lack of an ensuite commode -- words Joey is apparently unfamiliar with, because she asks him to clarify. "Where. Is. The. Bathroom?" Fricke demands. Meekly, she explains it's down the hall ... and communal. "I see," comes the icy cold reply (what was that he was saying about a lack of heating?)
Moving on, Joey tells him to enjoy his stay, that high tea is at five o'clock and breakfast begins at seven. "Enjoy your stay," she repeats. He points out that she said that already and she apologizes for doing so, excuses herself and then leans against the outside of his closed room door, on the verge of tears.
Speaking of the lack of warmth, Jack says as much to Andie in their room. She's back into Campaign to Bring Jack Home mode, and asks if he thinks they can successfully impersonate a brother and sister this weekend. When Jack doesn't take the bait, Andie persists: "I don't know how you do it. I can never get a good night's sleep if I'm not in my own bed."
Deciding to nip her in the bud (more like, clock her over the head), Jack snaps at her. "God, Andie! Listen to me -- I get the message, okay? If Dad wants me to move back home that's fine, but you're not going to spend the next couple of days waging a subtle campaign to wear me down. I'm serious. Any mention of home, house, any kind of dwelling where people live, I'm gonna go stay in Jen's room. You understand?" She does.
In the living room, Joey and Bessie nervously discuss Fricke as he sits on the couch, looking miserable. "Does he look like he's having a good time?" Bessie whispers anxiously. "Does a lemon ever look like its having a good time?" Joey replies rather sourly. Bessie tells her sister to be nice, but Joey replies that their entire future is entrusted to him.
Changing the subject, Bessie asks where Pacey is, as he was supposed to help her turn down the beds. "He's in the bathroom, counting animals two by two," Joey answers dryly. "Why?" A note of panic creeps into Bessie's voice. "What happened?" "What else?" Joey counters. "A flood. The toilet overflowed." Cut to Pacey in the bathroom, mopping up the floors: "Note to self: Career options? Delete hotel management."
Later, Dawson is reflecting on the state of affairs (or rather, his parents' affair) when Mitch approaches him. "You're right," father tells son as he sits down beside him. "I didn't ask her here for just any reason. Your mother and I have enough of the same friends for me to know what's going on in her life. And she's hitting a wall, Dawson. Every network, large and small, it seems, is passing her by for a job."
"She never told me that," Dawson says quietly, surprised by the news. Mitch adds that she didn't tell him, either. "Well, no offense, Dad, but I'm her son. You're her divorced husband." "I'm her friend," Mitch corrects. "And I want her to know that, whatever our history, I am there for her. I'm sorry if that threatens you."
"It doesn't threaten me," Dawson insists. "Well, it does something," Mitch observes, getting annoyed. Prompted, Dawson tells his father it pisses him off. "It pisses you off that your parents have a cordial post-divorce relationship?" Mitch asks. "No," he replies. "It pisses me off that I don't know what to believe anymore, okay? You're married, you're divorced. You're enemies, you're friends. What?"
Mitch exlains he and Gale are trying very hard to be friends right now. "Well, it's a little late for that, don't you think?" Dawson mutters. "That's where you're wrong," Mitch replies. "There's no time constraint about how long you can care about someone, no limit on how much. Especially if they've been so much a part of your life already." (Gee, are we talking about Gale or Joey here?)
Back inside we go, where Joey and Bessie have now decided to sit with Fricke on the couch and take a stab at smoothing things over. "Now, this is our first full week of operation, Fred," Bessie begins. "So we're still trying to work out all the kinks," Joey continues. "I think our family-style approach is what sets us apart from all the competition, Fred." And then, to prove her point (not), she rests her hand on his knee flirtatiously.
Just then, Pacey calls out that he's almost fixed the bathroom. To distract Fricke from Bessie's rather sad attempt at winning his favour through lukewarm flirting, Joey blurts out that they have some great people working for them. "Fred," Bessie asks, again, overly-familiarly, "Have you met our on-site handyman, Pacey Witter?" Fricke raises an eyebrow in disdain. "No, I haven't had the pleasure."
Said handyman comes into the living room just then, announcing that everything is under control and he has taken care of things. A loud banging noise and a puff of smoke from the heating vent punctuates his words, as all four of them glance up at the ceiling. "You might want to have handyman Witter check the furnace," Fricke states, each word dripping with ice.
Some time later, Joey pounds on the furnace in frustration, as Bessie joins her and tells her that Fricke decided to go into Capeside for dinner. "Shoot," Joey mutters. "I don't think swearing at the thing's gonna help," Bessie chuckles. "Oh, and flirting with it might?" Joey snipes. Bessie's taken aback. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," she replies flatly. "I'm just a child, remember? I'll just stick with the little things, you know, like how we're going to prevent everyone we know from freezing to death in what's supposed to be the coldest night of the year?" "You know, you're certainly behaving like a child. What is your problem?" Bessie demands.
Selfishly, Joey asks her sister if she even remembers what it is like to be 16. "Is it like some far-off planet?" Bessie says she remembers. "Because it's like you have all the responsibilities of an adult, but none of the authority," Joey whines. "You can't vote, you can't drink, you can't make any definitive decisions about your life."
Bessie laughs bitterly. "You think getting older automatically gives you more say in your life? Get real, Joey. You think I wanted to be stuck here at 26 taking care of two kids by myself?" (You tell her, Bess!) "Well, I guess I missed the part where you begged and pleaded with Bodie to stay," Joey rudely replies. Bessie's angry now, and rightly so. "I ask him to come home every chance I get, but he knows we can't afford it. Trust me, this is now how I planned for my life to turn out."
"Well, I'm really sorry if Alexander are putting a such a cramp in your lifestyle, but with any luck, I won't be here much longer to trouble you," Joey retorts. (What a little brat.) "That's not what I meant and you know it," Bessie replies with fury and frustration. "You know, for a girl who supposedly wants to leave Capeside as soon as she can, you sure are putting a hell of a lot of effort into this place."
Lighting the furnace with a match, Joey turns to her sister. "You're right. Maybe it's just time I stopped." Bessie, not the entire viewing audience, rolls her eyes at Joey's obnoxiousness and petty threats. If she was going for Megabitch this episode, she absolutely nailed it -- she's got the whining, sulking and ungratefulness down to a fine art.
Outside, Pacey takes his frustration out on a pile of logs, which he is taking an axe to for firewood. This display of latent anger isn't lost on Mitch, who approaches him gingerly. "Whose head was that?" "Ah, not to worry, Coach," Pacey reassures him. "If anybody's head belongs on the chopping block, it's mine." Mitch asks him why. "Oh, let me count the ways. For one, it was my idea to refurbish the old furnace instead of just buying a new one ... and this is the one you're really gonna love. It was my idea to bring Herr Fricke down to our little weekend in the country."
"You did?" Mitch asks incredulously. "Yes," Pacey confirms. "I did. Let me tell ya, it was no easy feat, okay? I had to pull out all the stops on that guy, use all my dazzling people skills. And for what? A comedy of errors that's probably going to put the sisters Potter in the poorhouse." Mitch doesn't buy that, though -- he thinks that if he were Joey or Bessie, he would consider himself very lucky to have Pacey in his life.
"Why?" Pacey swings his axe down hard on a log. "Everything and everybody that I touch, I screw up, all right? You're aware of the Midas touch, right? You've heard of that? Okay, well whatever the opposite of that is, I got it." Mitch tells him not to be so sure. "Look at you, you're still at it, right? You haven't given up. Pace, instead of dwelling on everything that's gone wrong this weekend, think about what you've contributed. You've put a lot of selfless work into this place. That is the real question that goes to the heart of who Pacey Witter is." "What?" Pacey asks, not sure where this is going. Mitch smiles at him in a surrogate fatherly way. "What makes you care so much."
Over at Dawson's house, he and his mother are taking blankets out of a closet, when he decides to apologize to her for blowing up beforehand. "I should've been a little more sympathetic," he admits. "It's just the rules of engagement keep changing on me." "Tell me about it," Gale smiles wearily. "The post-divorce landscape is like an emotional battlefield."
"What I don't understand is that you and Dad seem to really like each other. You still care about each other." "Well we do, honey," Gale tells her son. "Which is what makes the knowledge that we're better off apart even more difficult to bear. I mean, think about your own life." Dawson frowns. "What about it?" "You and Joey," Gale explains. "The decision to break up it isn't made in one sitting. It's cumulative. You have to re-decide over and over each day." (Amen, sister :( )
Moving next door, Jack and Andie are in the kitchen at Grams' place. He goes off to look for a space heater, while Andie reads the notes on the fridge. "Hey, what's Jack milk?" Her brother returns to the room. "What?" "It says, 'Get more Jack milk,'" Andie reads. "Oh! That's whole milk," he explains. "You know, Grams is skim, Jen's one per cent." "Ah," Andie nods understandingly. "Everybody gets their own milk."
Andie picks up a mug which has Jack written on it. "Coffee much?" He chuckles. "No. That's an inside joke, it's kind of hard to explain." "It's okay, you don't have to, I get it." Andie is hurt. "I mean, you're part of a family now. Families have three types of milk and inside jokes. Why would you want to move back into that big, cold house with a man who has no idea what kind of milk you drink or what kind of play you're directing? You're really lucky."
Something suddenly dawns on Jack. "It's you, isn't it?" he asks softly. "It's not Dad that's asking me back home, it's you." "I miss my brother, Jack," Andie replies sadly. "Especially when my life gets crazy and I want somebody around to share it with. And that's not meant to make you feel guilty and it's not meant as a sympathetic plea. It's just the truth." She walks away as Jack looks after her, guilt-ridden.
Jen and Dawson are perched on lawn chairs, gazing up at the moonrise, which is a lovely pinkish colour. "Gorgeous," Jen smiles. "Pollution," Dawson frowns. "Certain industrial pollutants make the moon appear more vivid. Right about now, some factory in Boston just released something highly toxic into the air."
Jen grins wryly. "You know, there was a time when you'd just see the magic in a sight like this." "I still do," he sighs. "It's just ... you know ... I have a bitter sense of the reality behind the magic." She nods. "Can I ask you something, just for the record?" Now, Dawson nods. "When we were dating and I told you about me, my past," Jen takes a deep breath, "What was it that you were scared of?"
"I think anything that we don't know or understand can scare us, and I had certainly never known anyone with your degree of life experience," Dawson says simply. "I admit that I was madly infatuated with you." Jen absorbs his words, reflecting on them. "Do you think that most other boys would react the same way?"
"I'd love to say no, but honestly I don't know," he shrugs. "I can't know how anyone's going to react. But I can tell you, just for the record, that how I reacted was wrong. And that now I can see that the only thing more beautiful than Jen Lindley is the reality behind her magic. And I feel sorry for any guy who's too insecure to see that." Jen smiles at him gratefully as he tells her the words she needed to hear.
A while later, the whole gang, "guests" included, have met up in the living room of the B & B. The men are huddled around the hearth, trying in vain to get a fire started, while the women sit patiently around the room. "Air vents!" Mitch orders. "Okay, guys? Blow! Blow!" Let's get that right up there! Blow!" Nothing happens. "We're so gonna freeze," Jen mutters under her breath, which she can almost see, it's so cold in the house.
"You'll never get it started with the hickory on the bottom," Grams interjects. "May I?" The men step aside as she rearranges the wood and strikes a match. "Hickory is a glorious wood, but it's a hard wood. It will never burn on its own. Soft pine goes on the bottom, oak in the middle, hickory on top." Predictably, it starts almost immediately. "There we go."
"You know, she churns her own butter, too," Jen quips. "Oh, I used to build a fire after dinner every night in the winter," Grams begins to reminisce. "Jennifer's grandfather would sit in his leather chair, feet on the ottoman, and read to me. Some nights we'd travel with Ahab in search of the great whale. Or some nights we'd float down the perilous river with Huck and Jim. Nearly every night, at some point in our journey, he'd fall asleep, chin on chest, book in lap, content. You know you love someone when you can spend the entire night just sitting by the fire, watching him sleep."
"Sounds like you loved him very much," Gale smiles sadly. "Love is the hardest of woods," Grams notes. "Takes a long, long time to heat up ... but it does." Jen breathes in deeply. "God, it smells good in here." "Hickory burning in the hearth," Grams murmurs. "Smells like 46 years of my life."
"They say that smell is the most powerful sense of recall that we have," Dawson says. "It can bring back all kinds of buried experiences." "Vanilla." Mitch looks at Gale, surprised. "Still?" "Every time I smell it," she smiles at him, then turns to her son. "Your father worked in a restaurant when we first started dating--" "The Franklin Family Fish House," Mitch interrupts, laughing. "--And every night after work, when he would come to pick me up, he always smelled like vanilla," Gale finishes. Mitch explains he used to soak his hands in it to alleviate the smell of the cod.
"Phenylene diamine." It's Dawson's turn now. "It's the main chemical used to process film. It might have been the first time I ever opened a film canister. It's an intense smell. At the time, it smelled like possibility."
"Mothballs." Jen confesses this to much laughter from the rest of the room. "I love the smell of mothballs. No, when class would get out at the Chapin's School in New York, there was this old storage room in the back of the auditorium that the drama club used to keep all their costumes and props in. God, I would spend hours in there ... hiding under Guinevere's skirt ... wrapped in Lady Macbeth's cloak. It always seemed like, no matter what had happened or how bad the day had been or how much I thought I was falling apart, there was nothing that could get to me in there."
"Kick-a-poo juice." Jack explains that it was a kind of grape juice they used to hand out cups of, at the end of every day of summer camp. "The owner of the camp gave it that stupid name, but we all knew it was Hi-C."
As the laughter dies down, Pacey asks if it's possible to smell snow. "Absolutely," Mitch nods. "Well, that's my first memory, then. I don't know, I was maybe two or three years old. I just distinctly remember getting up on my tippy-toes so I could look through this half-open window at the snow falling down on the frozen creek, and everything just blanketed in stillness."
"New car." Andie sighs softly. "We'd go on these family trips, and dad would always request a brand new rental car. And I guess that smell just reminds me of all of us traveling together down some big open highway."
"Bacon." Joey stares into the fire, smiling sadly. "Sizzling ... crackling ... wafting into my bedroom while I was still asleep ... starting in my dreams and coaxing me into wake." "I know that smell," Bessie smiles sadly, too. "Mom." "Yeah."
Joey explains to the room that every Sunday, when she didn't have to work, their mother would make breakfast. "I would find my way down the hallway and stand next to her by the stove. And we would talk about school, and boys, and we'd take the pancake batter and pour it into tiny molds shaped like pine trees and animals. My mom always loved to cook and take care of everyone, and hated working at that bar every night. She always told me not to worry, because eventually she was going to make enough money and she was going to open up her very own," her voice catches, "her very own Bed & Breakfast. She obviously didn't get the chance to see that dream happen, so I thought I would give it a shot ... So, thank you everyone for coming and helping us. You're the best fake guests a girl could ask for. But really, you can all go home now."
She gets up to leave, but encounters Fricke in the doorway, who has just come back from his dinner. Shame-faced, she apologises to him. "I'm really sorry this has been such a horrendous experience. I realize it's no five-star B & B, but I'm pretty sure my mother would've loved it."
The next morning, Joey is sleeping in her room, when that familiar scent of bacon wafts in ... sizzling ... crackling ... starting in her dreams and coaxing ... okay, so you get the picture. She opens her eyes, smiling, and pads down to the kitchen, where Andie, Jen, Pacey, Dawson and Jack are dancing around like fools, laughing and cooking and recreating a teenage version of the ubiquitous kitchen scene from The Big Chill shown at the beginning of the episode. It's a little heavy on the mozzarella side, but cute nevertheless.
As Joey enters and asks what is going on, Pacey calls out for someone to get her a cup of coffee. "I thought everyone was going home?" she asks, puzzled. "Well, you know, you sleep late, you miss a lot," Dawson grins. "Okay, you've done the bed thing -- it's time for some breakfast." They gently shove her towards the table, where everyone is seated, including Fricke. With a flourish, Pacey serves him a platter of breakfast goodies.
"Morning, Mr. Fricke," Joey begins timidly. "You know, I know we still have a few kinks to work out ... We'll probably never have the fine linens and gourmet food that you're used to--" "The heat didn't work last night," he muses, "But this is one of the warmest places I've ever stayed." Stuffing a forkful of food into his mouth, he adds that the pancakes may be the best in the county.
Joey frowns. "Um, what am I missing?" "Why, whatever do you mean?" Bessie answers sweetly. Joey notes that for one thing, Bessie's pancakesa are nowhere near this good. "Well then," Pacey smiles, "Perhaps we should pay our compliments to the chef, huh?"
The entire table starts chanting "Chef! Chef!" as Bodie, Bessie's long-lost boyfriend from midway through the first season, enters the room, Alexander in his arms. "Now, who here wants seconds?" he grins. Joey can't believe her eyes, and rushes over to him, greeting him with a bear hug and asking what he is doing there. (good, because I'd really like to know, too) "What do you mean?" he laughs. "I wouldn't miss this for the world!"
Bessie and Joey go into the living room to speak privately. "I was up for hours last night, thinking about what you said by the fire," Bessie tells her younger sister. "And I went up to the attic--" "Look, Bessie--" Joey interrupts, about to apologize, when Bessie produces a weathered-looking guest book. "Dad gave this to mom for Christmas 10 years ago. We signed it over breakfast ... her first guests." She shows Joey their signatures from long-ago. "How could I have forgotten her dream?" Bessie sighs sadly. "You've had a few other things to worry about, Bessie," Joey defends her. "The lives of two kids."
They are interrupted by a toast from the kitchen: "To the Potter B & B!" Fricke proclaims, raising a glass. "May it live long and prosper!" Everyone cheers and claps.
Fast-forward to post-breakfast, where Mitch and Gale are packing up in their bedroom. "You remember last night around the fire, that whole nostalgia vanilla thing?" Mitch asks her. "That brought back another memory ..." "... The Fish Bistro," Gale smiles. "How could I ever forget that pipe dream?" "We thought that up when you were pregnant with Dawson," Mitch regards her fondly. "Leery's Fresh Fish. But you know what? I think back to that time now, before the teaching and the coaching, that wasn't really my dream at all. It was yours."
"Well, I don't know about that," Gale protests. Mitch clarifies himself. "I'm not saying that you bailed on it or anything, I mean, it's not your fault you were more successful doing something else. Anyway, I know that you're interviewing with a lot of different stations and everything, but there is this little empty place by the river. I, uh, came across it the other day and wrote the number down just in case you wanted to take a look at it." He passes her a piece of paper, which she accepts graciously, but her eyes are sad. "Thank you, Mitch, but that dream was so very long ago." He smiles a bit sadly himself. "Seems like yesterday to me."
Down by the dock, Henry and Jen sit and stare out onto the creek. "So this is why you brought me here?" he asks. "Henry, I just shared with you all the events of my sordid past, a veritable laundry list of sexual crimes and misdemeanors," Jen frowns, confused by his reaction. "Yeah?" "So," she continues, "You're not acting disgusted or self-righteous or intimidated or even agog?"
"Why would I be any of those things?" he asks in total naivety. She shrugs. "Because that's how boys always react." "Whatever you did before is part of what makes you who you are," he blinks at her, poker-faced. "And I'm thankful for that." Jen is completely taken aback. "Did you just say what I think you said?" Now it's Henry's turn to be taken aback -- he's not sure if he's about to be scolded or praised. "Whatever it was, I think I did ... yeah." Jen breaks out into a broad smile. "Who are you, Henry Parker?" (Yeah, and when you find that out, could you please send him back to whatever freak-filled planet he came from, by express delivery? Thanks so much.)
Cut back to the B & B. It's now Pacey's turn to set up the camcorder as Dawson watches in amusement. "Pacey, do you have any idea what you're doing?" "Well, I have put a lens cap on before, yeah." "I meant just in general," Dawson points out. "Everything's changing so rapidly, I'm having troubles finding my bearings." "I'll second that emotion," Pacey agrees.
"You know, I lay awake at night on my bed staring at my walls -- which are now blank except for a Lennon poster -- trying to imagine the future ... and it's as blank as the walls. All I can see is a past that's barely recognizable anymore. Perfect example: You."
"Me?" "Yeah," Dawson nods. "You concocted this whole metamorphosis. You used to be glib and predictable. I don't know, I mean I thought it was your relationship with Andie, but now you're not with her and still ... I guess what I'm trying to say is ... thank you."
Pacey looks confused. "For what, man?" "For doing what I asked you to do," Dawson tells him simply. "Taking care of Joey. You really went above and beyond the call. I mean, you did something really special for her. I'm glad she has you." (Ohhhh, who wants to wager he'll live to eat those words?)
Instantly, Pacey goes into defense mode, and if Dawson didn't have his head wedged so far up his butt, he'd see that. "Let me tell you something, man," Pacey starts. "It's no picnic, okay? That Potter girl, she ain't easy, all right? She's physically incapable of keeping her mouth shut for more than two seconds at a time. She's got an opinion about everything. I mean, it's uncanny. So anytime you want to jump back in there, you just let me know, because I am eager to return to our regularly scheduled programming. That good enough for you?"
Methinks the gentleman doth protest far too much, but the Clueless Wonder of Capeside just grins at him idiotically and says, "That'll do fine, Pace." (Note to Dawson: In the future, think back to this conversation and don't say you weren't warned ...)
Jen and Grams are getting ready to leave the B & B, a song about sunshine dancing on Grams lips as they depart. "Did you mix your red pills with your blue ones today?" Jen observes with a grin. "I like that song," she tells her granddaugher, just as Jack joins them. "Oh, just in time to carry our bags!" Jen laughs and both of them dump their suitcases and overnight bags into his arms.
Looking grave, Jack puts them down. "Listen there's something I want to talk through with you guys, if you have a second." The smile fades from Jen's face as she asks what's wrong. In his usual, endearing, awkward way, Jack tries to explain himself. "Okay. Uh ... Andie is ... um ... Andie's giving me the hard sell about moving back home."
"What about your dad?" Jen asks. "As much as I thought it was, my moving back home doesn't really have anything to do with my dad," Jack says. "He's not there half the time, anyway. It's about Andie. You see, when you guys invited me last summer to stay with you, I didn't have anything or anyone. And it was so generous of both of you, and it's not that you just offered me a home, it was the act of reminding me that somebody cared about me when I didn't really feel like I deserved it. And now Andie needs to be reminded of that. I'm her brother. So look ... I'm sorry. I don't want you to think that I don't appreciate everything, and you did so much for me, and I--"
"Go home, Jack." Jen tells him softly. "Go home." He embraces her and Grams tightly as tears well up in all their eyes.
Later that evening, Pacey looks around the B & B for Joey. He bursts into the living room, full of news. "Potter? Potter, look, I talked to the furnace guy. He said he could come by tomorrow if you didn't ..." He trails off as he sees Joey sleeping peacefully on the couch, near the fire. As the appropriately sad, soft, folksy music begins on cue, he tiptoes over near her and tucks the blankets around her. Pacey stares at her for a moment, lost in thought, then quietly leaves the room.
Cut to Bodie, Bessie and Alexander, sitting happily outside by candlelight,m talking and laughing.
Cut to Jen and Henry, who have revisited the docks and are quietly sitting together, deep in conversation.
Cut to the riverfront, where Gale looks thoughtfully at the warehouse property Mitch told her about earlier.
Cut to Jack's room at Grams' home, as he removes a dreamcatcher from the wall and packs it away, then picks up the box, turns out the light and closes the door softly behind him.
Cut to Dawson in his room, staring at his John Lennon poster, alone with his thoughts.
Cut back to the B & B, where Pacey is about to spend the entire night just sitting by the fire, watching Joey sleep ...
Fade to black ...