I don’t know if we were more stunned to be invited in or by what her opening that door revealed. After wiping my eyes and scrutinizing the dreary exterior, I stepped into an episode of The Twilight Zone. The show was weird to say the least, but Foxy liked to watch it while I helped her sort through dried herbs. At the moment, the real-life episode went from a grainy black-and-white to full-on Technicolor. Everything inside was bathed in pinks and whites and trimmed with gold finishes. Crystal figurines and porcelain knickknacks, lacy doilies and fluffy throw pillows . . .

“Whoa, it’s like a life-size dollhouse.” Charlotte shuffled around the living room, mouth gaping, eyes wide in wonder. I followed behind her doing the same.

“I . . . I need to freshen up . . .” Miss Wise walked down a hallway. A door shut and then we heard the muffled sound of a running faucet.

“I guess we need to start the walk home,” I whispered to Charlotte. My growling stomach reminded me we still had to figure out Sunday dinner after the three-mile journey.

Ignoring me, Charlotte pulled in a deep inhale. “It smells like a rose garden in here.” She lifted her nose and breathed in again the way the old bloodhound that took up at the farm this past summer did every time something in the air caught his attention.

I sniffed my collar and winced. “We smell like a smokehouse.” I shoved my soot-smudged hands deep into the pockets of my corduroys. “Don’t touch anything.”

Charlotte held her hands out and twirled slowly. “I didn’t get dirty.”

“You never get dirty,” I grouched. My little sister was the queen of getting out of farmwork or anything that put her directly in contact with dirt. At least she didn’t mind keeping the laundry done and watching after the younger twins. Heaven knows, both were full-time jobs.

“Don’t fuss at me. I made sure the twins stayed out the way for y’all.” She placed her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. In a floral chiffon dress and with her brown hair in pigtails, Charlotte looked like the doll that went with this dollhouse.

Refusing to argue with her in the middle of a stranger’s home, I beckoned her to follow me. “Let’s go.”

Before we could slip out the door, Miss Wise walked back into the room. Another dimension of this Twilight Zone episode unfolded with the new version of this woman. For the first time ever, I saw her in a short-sleeved blouse and a pair of lounge pants. Her feet were bare, showing off sparkling toenails in bubble-gum pink. Blinking away from her feet, I looked up and noticed her dark-gray hair had been freshly gathered in a long braid that hung over her right shoulder.