"I'll presume it means someone other than my mother," she said, trying for a darkly humorous note. "It's not exactly old enough that I can reason with it, anyway."

She thought, suddenly, of Aunt Gracie, placing Eleanor on her lap while she brushed out those long, tangled braids. Singing quietly to herself during every stroke. The doll didn't exactly have hair long enough for that sort of thing, but ...

"It finds touch to be soothing," she presumed. "So I hold it, then?"