The Hamlet Trap Read Online Free Page A

fully developed bearing its own load of acceptance and dread and inevitability.
    Ginnie had the door open for them when they got back to her car. Her cheeks were bright from the wind, her hair tumbled every which way. When she started to drive, she asked, “Do you ski? Mount Ashland is wonderful for skiing, everything from cross-country to beginners’ slopes to high-speed downhill.”
    Neither of them skied. “The wind made me think of it,” Ginnie said. “There’s been snow up in the mountains already, and the wind smells like warmed-over snow. We hardly ever get any down here, but sometimes you can smell it.”
    Laura glanced at Gray. He shrugged, paying little attention to their guide, evidently not interested in her or her strange observations about weather.
    Ginnie took them down the less-steep way and then on to their motel. She gave Gray the slip of paper with the phone number of Warner Furness and offered her services as chauffeur, guide, whatever they needed in the coming week or so until they got settled in. Gray thanked her politely and distantly; Laura forced a smile, and she left them alone.
    â€œWhat do you think?” Ro asked her over the phone that night.
    â€œYou mean Gray and Laura?”
    â€œYou know that’s what I mean. He didn’t like the production, thought it was too draggy.”
    â€œWell, so does Kirby,” she pointed out.
    â€œYeah, I know. Anyway, what do you think?”
    â€œToo soon. Ask me in a couple of weeks. Has he told you the contest winner yet?”
    There was a pause, then Ro said, “It’s one called The Climber . Have you read it?”
    â€œNope. Didn’t read any of them. Do you have a copy?”
    â€œJust the file copy in the office. Juanita will run off some Xeroxes tomorrow. You want to read it in the office?”
    She hesitated. Peter had asked her to go to Silver Lake with him over the weekend to a dig that had attracted students from the entire Northwest over the summer. Now that there were only professionals at the site, he was interested. She made up her mind suddenly. “I’ll drop in tomorrow and read through it. You don’t like it?”
    â€œI don’t know,” he said peevishly. “It’s just not the one I would have picked, I guess. Anyway, read it and tell me what you think. See you tomorrow, honey.”
    She called Peter and was a little surprised at how disappointed he sounded.
    â€œI’ve been trying to get you off to myself for weeks,” he said, “and you keep dodging. Did Ro know ahead of time that you were considering going away?”
    â€œI’m not sure. Why? What does that mean?”
    â€œI bet he did.”
    â€œCome back in time for the party, okay? Between eight and nine?
    He said he would try and she knew he would make it. That was the only condition she had imposed, if she had gone at all, that they be back in time for the big party at the end of the season. Had she mentioned it to Uncle Ro? She thought not, but could not be certain, and even if she had, so what? Uncle Ro was not trying to run her life, she thought emphatically. If anything, he ignored her private life as if it didn’t even exist.
    If he asked if she was sleeping with Peter, would she tell him? she wondered. Probably. But she knew he would not ask any more than she would question him about his private life.
    â€œGot a cup of coffee?” she called at his office door the next morning. It was raining and she felt smug about not being out camping at Silver Lake. The last time she and Peter had camped out in the rain, both sleeping bags had been soaked and he had caught a cold. She shrugged out of a poncho and held it at arm’s length to drip in the hall, not on the office carpet.
    â€œHang it up somewhere,” Ro said, “and come on in. Come on. Such a mooch. Don’t you buy any coffee of your own?”
    â€œHell no. How was dinner with Wonder Boy