The Hamlet Trap by Kate Wilhelm Read Free Book Online Page B

known as allowing enough rope.
    â€œWe’ll work on the play this week, maybe into next week,” Gray said. “And then I’ll tell her to go back home until late January.”
    â€œWhat trapdoor?” Peter asked suddenly.
    â€œA lot of theaters used to have a single trapdoor on stage,” Ginnie said. “They called it the Macbeth Trap, for Banquo’s ghost to make his appearance and disappearance.”
    Ro snorted. “Where’d you hear that? It’s the Hamlet Trap. That’s where they bury Ophelia.”
    Ginnie flushed. “I don’t believe you. It’s the Macbeth Trap. Everything I’ve ever read about it says that.”
    â€œWell, honey, I think you read the wrong things.” Ro’s voice was easy, he was relaxed, enjoying the evening, the home-cooked meal. Neither he nor anyone else was prepared for the flash of anger that made Ginnie’s voice shake when she abruptly left the table.
    â€œWould it ever occur to you that maybe you could be wrong? Why is it always the other person?”
    Gray reached for the wine and poured more for himself and for Peter, who was watching Ginnie with a frown. “I’ve seen it both ways,” Gray said. “What I told Sunshine was that there’s been a plague of spiders below stage and we had to call in exterminators who used some kind of spray on them. She doesn’t go places that have been sprayed.”
    Ginnie came back with small plates for pie and started to clear the table. “Now you see the magic of whipped cream,” she said, but her voice was strained.
    As soon as they were all finished, Peter said, “Maybe you’d like to see the house? Would you mind, Ginnie? It’s such a great house,” he added to Laura. “And her models are terrific.”
    â€œLet me,” Ro said, and took Gray and Laura off for a tour.
    Peter held Ginnie in his arms. “What happened? Are you all right?”
    She nodded. “It’s… I don’t know what came over me. It’s okay now. Sorry.”
    Together they filled the dishwasher and prepared the coffee tray. Then the others returned to the kitchen, talking about the models of stage sets that Ginnie had done.
    â€œThey’re wonderful, just wonderful,” Laura said. “What a shame they aren’t on permanent display somewhere.”
    Ro nodded emphatically. “In the lobby. I keep saying we should set up a showcase in the lobby.”
    Ginnie laughed and shook her head. “Come on. Let’s have coffee.”
    â€œGray, how do you feel about musicals, operettas, even opera?” Ro asked suddenly.
    Ginnie stopped and looked at Gray, waiting. He nodded, puzzled by the question.
    â€œYou see, Ginnie and I tried to talk Kirby into something last year that he really balked at. Never saw him come on so stubborn, but there it was. We had to give it up. What we wanted was The Threepenny Opera . Kirby turned it down flat, and if the director says no, you’d better back off or you’ll have a mess on your hands.”
    Gray’s eyes had narrowed. “It’s a major production. Do you have the singers, the musicians?”
    â€œSome of the best.”
    Ginnie began to sing in a husky voice: “ ‘And the shark he has his teeth and/There they are for all to see./ And Macheath he has his knife but/ No one knows where it may be—’”
    She broke off and laughed. “It has wonderful music!”
    She could tell by Gray’s attitude that he was hearing the Kurt Weill music in his head. She put the cream on the tray and Peter picked it up to take to the living room. That was when the party ended, Laura later thought, when Gray nodded, and then again, with enthusiasm, and the three of them, Ro, Ginnie, and Gray, forgot Laura and Peter for the next two hours.
    They were talking animatedly about the pros and cons of updating it rather than making it a period piece when Peter