"We can't name our daughter Alice," Robert said, frowning.
Carol looked up from the TV, and blinked. "Why not?"
"Because then she'd be called Alice Hamilton," he reminded her.
Carol gave him a blank look.
"Mother of toxicology?" Robert attempted to remind her. "The first woman to sit as a faculty member of Harvard Medical?"
"It almost rings a bell," Carol admitted. "I don't see why we can't still name her Alice, though."
"She'll get picked on at school."
"I don't think very many school children will be familiar with the name."
"They don't have to be familiar with it to start with. They just have to come across it in a book, and then she'll never hear the end of it."
"That won't happen. Why would it when the Stankoviches are due just a month before us?"
Robert fumbled for the remote, and then hit the mute button. "Why are you so set on Alice for a name?"
"No reason," Carol said quickly.
"Sure…" Robert replied, disbelieving.
"I was Carol Lewis when I met you," she said, after a moment.
"Yes, I remember that being the case," Robert prompted.
"Carol Lewis. Lewis Carroll?"
"It just- it feels like I'd be passing something on, with the name Alice."
"It's silly, I know, but-"
"No, it's not silly. And it is unlikely that anyone she went to school with would know the name," He nodded to himself. "Alice for a first name it is."
He reached for the remote again.
"Middle name?" Carol asked.
"Rebecca," he said firmly, restoring the sound.
"Alice Rebecca Hamilton," she murmured, looking down at the bulge in her stomach. Robert reached over and placed his hand on her stomach; she laced their fingers together and turned her attention back to the TV.