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“Alissa was right,” he said. “This place is perfect.”
    “Perfect as in perfect for a morning picnic?” Meri ventured. “Or perfect as in the perfect location for the next meeting of the Photo Buffs of America Club?”
    He smiled. Avoiding her question, Jay held a grape between his thumb and forefinger as if aiming for her mouth. “Can you catch?” he challenged.
    Meredith laughed. He laughed. She opened her mouth and tilted her head back. The first grape hit her forehead.
    “Can you throw?” she challenged right back.
    “Best two out of three,” he said.
    With careful aim he shot, and the second one hit the side of her cheek.
    “Work with me here,” he said.
    Meredith laughed. “If you would throw straight, we wouldn’t be having a problem.”
    “Oh, is that what you think? Open up.”
    Meredith kept her head down and her lips firmly closed in an act of defiance. “Why should I?” she said through tight lips.
    Jay popped the grape in his own mouth and seemed to be thinking. A smile spread up his tanned jawline. “Because if you don’t open up, I’ll tell all your friends what you look like first thing in the morning.”
    The vision of her green face and plastic-covered head came instantly to mind. Meredith opened her mouth without a word.
    Taking careful aim, Jay launched the grape into the air. With a solid plop, it hit its intended target.
    “Yes, score one for the Jakester,” Jay said with a muscle-flexing raised fist.
    “The Jakester, huh?” Meredith repeated.
    Jay looked surprised.
    “Are you sure that shouldn’t be the jokester?”
    A settling smile returned to Jay’s face. “I suppose you want a chance to retaliate.”
    “No,” Meredith said calmly, picking up a strawberry and eating it in two dainty bites. “I’m not much for throwing food.”
    With the challenge dissolved, Jay reached for a muffin and pulled back the paper liner.
    “I wouldn’t eat that if I were you,” Meredith said.
    “Why?”
    “Did you smell it? They don’t seem right.”
    Jay lifted the muffin to his nose and took a sniff.
    Meredith seized the opportunity. In one smooth motion she leaned over and pushed his hand forward so that he smashed the muffin into his face.
    Speechless, Jay searched her face for an explanation.
    “I don’t throw food because I’m much better at mashing it.” Her contagious, shimmering laughter filled the air, competing with the rush of the waterfall.
    Jay cracked up. There was no other way to explain it. He started to laugh so hard he couldn’t even brush all the cakey muffin from his face and shirt.
    “You have a little more on that cheek,” Meredith said, motioning to the spot on her own right cheek. “And some of those tiny black seeds are still there on your chin. No, on the other side. There. You got it all.” They lingered, contentedly chuckling in the afterglow of a prank well executed.
    “Where do you live?” he suddenly asked.
    Oh, so now he asks
.
    “Whidbey Island.”
    “Where’s that?”
    “Outside Seattle.”
    “Oh.”
    Meredith waited a breath and a half before asking, “Do you still live in Pasadena?”
    “Yes. Same duplex for the past four years.”
    “What do you do?”
    He took off his sunglasses and placed them on his leg. With his warm brown eyes he seemed to study her again. “Well, I used to be a waiter,” he said without moving. “At a little place in Santa Monica called Chez Monique’s.”
    “I’ve heard of it,” Meredith said. She didn’t want to mention that she knew of the restaurant because it was often listedin her favorite Hollywood gossip magazines as the hot spot for actors who wanted to be seen around town. “You used to be a waiter,” Meredith repeated his words. “What do you do now?”
    “A little bit of everything,” he said vaguely. “I’ve had a lot of changes in my life the last six or seven months. I’m sort of between jobs right now.”
    Meredith nodded her false understanding. How can anyone his age be