"No," she says, her voice oddly flat. She doesn't know if he intended any veiled double entendre there, but she wouldn't put it past him. "It's just unlikely."

Sonia braces one foot against a fork in the branches to give herself a little more of a boost. Getting all these shots of the blooms from below is well enough, but what about pictures just buried in the middle of clusters of magnolia blossoms? Or better yet, a bird's eye view of some of the lower branches and their flowers. The shutter clicks.

"You're full of shit, Byerly."