“Shall we play a few games – see who wins?” I said. I could see she was pleased. “You serve,” she said. As usual, I got few first serves in...and in no time I was three games down. I could see she was happy, knowing that she was beating me. Game four and she served an almost perfect first serve but in a rare moment of skill, I played a better side line return and she leaped across to play it back but slipped and tumbled to the ground. I laughed and said, “Get up, that shot was too good even for. Then I went next door to collect Mel.It was 10:00 when we got downstairs, and the jazz was just cranking up. Mel is a jazz lover. It’s one of the many oddly interesting things about her. So, we sat at a little table like two Parisian ladies and listened to the intricate sounds of a piano, bass, drums and saxophone that ranked right up there with Brubeck. Mel was wearing something that was sedate for her, a white silk choker blouse and short cream-colored skirt that made her café au lait skin. More

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