though with his performance and satisfied with the way he covered the water considering it had been a while since he swung a fly.
The dining room at the Inn is family style with the focal point of the room being a single 15ft slice of old growth timber that made up the head table. On most nights, the owner of the Inn sits at the head of the table and holds court. He presides over the nightly dinner ritual.
Mike walked up the 4 steps leading up to the dining room and through the window could see the Inn's owner already at his station talking with another man, Mike's father, Stan Dixon. The two men stopped talking and stood up as Mike entered the room.
"You have to be kidding me!" Mike said and walked over to his dad.
"How you doing Son?" Stan was not an emotional guy so this was as good as it gets.
"I'm ok" he said with some gathered confidence…"When did you get in?"
"I drove up from Grant's Pass this afternoon."
"Sorry about not calling you."
"Hell, I get it. It’s all good."
Mike turned to the owner of the Inn, realizing he had forgotten his manners. "Hello Sir. Good to see you again."
"Hello Mike," said the owner. "Good to see you too. Welcome back."