“Sam,” Emma said quickly, as the marshal paid the bill. “I want you to talk to Jimmy.”

“About? I told him I’d explain his duties to him tomorrow.”

Emma shook her head. “About wooing a woman.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot upward in surprise. “Um, Emma, they are expecting a baby, I think Jimmy has wooed her already.”

“Not that,” Emma told him impatiently. “They have a chance. A real chance. I thought for sure that the marriage would fall apart in a year or so. Being they only got married because of the baby.” The way hers had, she recalled sadly.

Shaking off thoughts of her own failed marriage, she continued, “But, I guess I didn’t realize it until this evening,” she said, almost to herself.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, his confusion apparent.

“They are in love,” Emma said with a shake of her head as if she was surprised to be saying the words. “Priscilla never stopped playing with her wedding ring and you could tell she was trying to please him.” Priscilla Washington who told people off at the drop of a hat had demurred to her husband’s wishes. It was only as of today that Emma realized Priscilla’s brashness was an act. Priscilla cared what people thought of her, she wanted to be liked, loved even. Lorna, Emma thought, now she truly did not care.

“Or you,” Sam said dryly.

Emma shook her head again. “Didn’t you see it? She’d play with her ring and look at Jimmy.” Emma frowned, trying to think of the right words. “She looked at him like he was special.” Like he was the sun, the moon and the stars. She knew that the word special did not convey very much, but it was all she could think off without Sam thinking she was crazier than he already thought. Priscilla Washington, er, Hickok, was glowing and it was not because of her pregnancy. “She let him hold her, like she trusts him, like he was her safe place and she was very pleased he remembered something she said.”

“About the pie?” Sam was incredulous.

“Yes.”

“It’s just pie.”

“It’s the little things that matter most,” Emma told him firmly. “And Jimmy, good Lord.”

Sam looked at her expectantly.

“I half expected him to punch the waiter when he smiled at Priscilla.”

“That’s his wife,” Sam sputtered. “The waiter should show some respect.” Emma was pleased to see that at least this little exchange, the waiter ogling Priscilla, had not escaped Sam’s attention

“His wife,” Emma said. “And he wants to make sure the world knows it. He her holds like she is made out of fine china, he remembers what she says; he cares enough to make sure she gets it. And he wants her so badly.” She saw the longing written all over Jimmy’s face. She had been a recipient of that longing just a few short months ago, Emma thought. It had been utterly inappropriate, but incredibly flattering. It also made Emma acutely aware of Jimmy’s feelings towards women. He was still young enough to wear his heart on his sleeve. Emma half wished all men were so easy to read, she thought, glancing at Sam.

When she saw the skeptical look on Sam’s face, she added, “Love is in the details.” She knew Sam wanted a thunderbolt moment. But they had missed the thunderbolt moment. Emma could only try to explain the aftereffects.

“And what am I supposed to say to Jimmy?” Sam asked, still confused by this conversation.

“Go slow. Sleep on the floor. Wait until Priscilla lets him know its right, really right,” Emma said quickly. She had been thinking about this all during dinner. “Sam, don’t you see, they missed having a beginning. No relationship can start in the middle and last. They need to get to know each other, flirt a little, fight a little, test the waters and learn to hang on to each other. Think about it,” she continued, “they are further along in their relationship than we are in ours and they barely know each other.”

She saw that Sam was finally beginning to understand. “Do you know what to say now?”

“Yeah.”