"Good -- and, thanks," she says, spearing a blueberry with her fork. "But these're way too easy to take credit for. Maybe by dinner, I'll do something impressive."

When she's actually firing on all cylinders.

Bill's all-too-innocent question gets another glance and a bemused head-shake.

"Nothing, sheriff."

She points the blueberried tines of her fork in his direction.

"I just wish I had your metabolism."