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Angel.
    â€œIt’s tiny,” said Dylan. “I thought mansions were supposed to be huge, with fountains and bushes shaped like things.”
    â€œIt was huge for that time period,” said Aunt Zoe. “And the value now is in the fact that it’s still standing, as well as whatever antiques it contains.”
    As we got closer to the trees, I could see that the manor stretched back as far as it did across, with a few smaller buildings behind it.
    â€œWhat’s that?” I asked.
    â€œPlease let it be a day spa,” Angel whispered.
    â€œI’m guessing servants’ quarters,” said Uncle Deke.
    And sure enough, a woman in a white apron and purple frock stepped out of one of the buildings, toting a basket piled with corn. She waved to us and bustled over.
    â€œWell met, weary travelers,” she said, her warm smile reaching her eyes. “You’ve arrived just in time for dinner.”
    â€œDinner?!” squeaked Dylan. “How long was I standing under that tree?” He shot an accusatory glance at Mom.
    â€œDinner was the afternoon meal in colonial times,” I told him. “They didn’thave lunch. It was breakfast, then dinner, then supper.”
    â€œThe girl is wise,” said the woman with an approving nod. “I am Felicity Hawkins, though you may call me Felicity. What be your names?”
    â€œTori,” I said. “And this is my mom, J—”
    â€œAh ah!” The woman wagged a finger. “You would simply call her Mother.” She turned to Mom. Or rather, Mother . “What could I call you, madam?”
    Mom cleared her throat. “Jill.”
    The woman gestured to the others, who introduced themselves. Then she nodded and pointed to the manor’s back door. “If you would follow me, dinner awaits.”
    Resting the basket on her hip, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. We followed single file, and I couldn’t help running my fingers along the side of the building, touching a piece of my family’s history.
    The back door led into a sunken kitchen, which was almost too warm for comfort, thanks to a massive hearth blazing in the corner. But the aroma of roasting meats and vegetables from the hanging pots made my stomach growl.
    Felicity climbed a couple of steps and opened another door, where a long table waited, half its chairs already occupied.
    The adults greeted one another loudly, and Angel and I hung back, feeling a little shy. Dylan ignored all of us, choosing to hold a burping contest with himself instead.
    Our parents introduced us to extended-family members, and I mentally calculated how long each one might last. Quickest to go would probably be Great-Aunt Muriel’s daughter, who looked almost as ancient as Great-Aunt Muriel. When people introduced themselves, she nodded and called them by a completely different name.
    â€œNice to meet you, Dora,” she told me.
    Next to go would be Sadie and Sam, who were holding a new baby. No way they’d be able to care for someone so little and still keep up. I was debating who would go third, a man who was already dozing at the table or a lady who kept knocking things over, when a tall costumed man approached us.
    â€œMembers of the extended Archibald family,” he said, “we welcome you to the manor and hope you will enjoy your stay. I am Eli, keeper of the grounds and contest coordinator. After dinner, my son, Caleb, and I will show you around the property and teach you basic skills you’ll need to survive these colonial times. Until then, eat, drink, and make merry!”
    He clapped his hands loudly, and two younger women appeared with platters of food that they set before us. Roastedbeef and chickens, corn on the cob, baked beans and chowder . . .
    The table was quiet for several minutes as everyone tucked in to their food. None of us knew when we would eat so well again, so we piled our plates high. Since