wished to be called Hamish.
And Carrie laughed. Her laugh bargained with dragons and boors and was
never stained. It mixed now with vines and old velvet, the leather of the
books, buckles, a pewter cup and the last of the purple grapes. She laughed
and opened up the moment to various possibilities and content and budded
the eddy for Esme(e)'s phrases and Violet's support.
But Cleo, eyes bright, leaning forward, with an elbow upon a knee launching
her white fledgling hand to lilt before her sky blue breast, smiling, laughing
at her bold demand and at herself for wishing like a child to have her
wishes granted, said again, "Call me Hamish. I would like that. I would
like to be called Hamish. Just for today."
"Why would you like it?" Rose asked.
And I thought then that Cleo might have spoken rashly revealing her desire
only to be asked, "Why?"