I caught my lip a moment only knowing instinctively that she would notice that, too, with her quick dark eyes, and recognize it and not forget it and apparently do nothing about it. I sounded as if I meant our meeting when in fact I had meant my name. Selfish, selfish-centered me, overripe with my loathings.

 

A wedge of sun from the table was a tiny mirrored shard exactly matched in each of Adonie's gray eyes and as I clarified, "I mean my name," it seemed to me she was waiting for that, for me to say something more and something which she knew I needed to attempt as I needed to attempt to repair what I perceived as the blunt damage of the beginning.
"Genestra isn't so bad," I went on, "but I hate Alma. What a stupid name. How could you give a child a bland name like that? It sounds like eggwhites that won't whip up."
She laughed then, low, brief, but the quality of it was enough to make Rose turn to us, and smile.
In Adonie's eyes there was laughter too, and a sudden delight as though I had given her a gift of what she sought. "A remarkably apt image. Is it a family name?" Maybe she thought that would excuse it.
"No!"