Avery Trufelman

She had met Sam Hill in his world travels, and she is why the atrium of the Maryhill Museum of Art is full of beautiful Romanian furniture.

And the fourth and most important friend, at least for Linda, was Alma de Bretville Spreckles.

She was the wife of Adolph Spreckles, head of the Spreckles Sugar Company.

Alma became one of the museum's first trustees and foremost benefactors.

Her donation to the museum collection would have the biggest impact on Linda's life.

And it was a bunch of creepy dolls.

I shouldn't say this, but I thought they were the most macabre objects I'd ever seen.

When Linda got to Maryhill, she stumbled on a glass case full of these dolls.

And they weren't like baby dolls.

They were clearly supposed to be adults.

But they were thin and skeletal and looked like they were out of The Nightmare Before Christmas.

The dolls were 27 inches tall, about double the length of your forearm.

And they all wore strange, dirty dresses and mismatched jackets, all bedraggled from years of volunteers playing with them and switching up their outfits.

There were around 50 of these dolls displayed in the glass case, all just bunched up close together like they were on crowded bleachers.

A bright fluorescent light flickered above them, accentuating their creepiness.

Apparently there were about a hundred more of these dolls in storage.

Linda did not know what was up with these dolls, but she couldn't really dwell on it.

So, among the Rodana sculptures, the Romanian furniture, a large collection of indigenous art and a display of chess sets, there were the dirty dolls, piling up against the glass showcase in the hall, collecting dust.

until one day when Linda got a call from a curator at the de Young Museum in San Francisco.

She asked Linda if she could come to Maryhill because she wanted to see these dolls.