RUTHIE AND I SAT like conjoined twins, connected at the hip. I looked around the room. For some reason its well-kept state surprised me. Late afternoon sunlight shone through the windows and reflected off the white walls, brightening the room. More light filtered through the sun lights in the vaulted ceiling, casting a warm glow wherever it landed. The decor was rustic and worn with a mix of furniture styles with accents of denim blue and deep red. A black pot-bellied stove sat in the corner near a large fireplace. The home was cleaner than I'd imagined. The phrase "a den of wolves" had conjured up rough furniture and sloppiness. Usemi, I corrected myself.