For fishing trips, she would tie her own flies, taking the due care which her grandfather had taught. Like him, her feathers of choice were rooster, mallard flank, and pheasant tail.
Come evenings, she would dress for dinner, meticulously attentive to the detail. And, as with the flies, lethally attractive.

Thomas Malloch began writing in retirement. Short stories, mostly. Sometimes very short. Once or twice a year he gets published which raises his sprits, perhaps more than it should.