Read Rehearsal for Murder (Maggie Ryan) for Free Online

it’s Muffin I’m thinking of. It’s the first time I won’t be there to pick her up after playschool. The very first time!”
    “I imagine she’ll survive it,” said Rachel drily. “But I’m not sure you will.”
    “Well, you’ll understand when you have one,” declared Elaine, pouring a glass of milk for Muffin. “It was hard even leaving her with Mitzi, and Mitzi’s been my buddy since junior high.”
    “I know,” sighed Rachel. “I’m totally unqualified. Boorish even to express an opinion. I’ll just shut up till the nine months are up.”
    “And then, abracadabra, you’ll be an instant expert!” Steve teased. But he doubted that Rachel would ever know the feverish devotion that Elaine felt for Muffin. Rachel hadn’t suffered those anxious years of not conceiving, those heartbreaking miscarriages.
    “Yes, and then you’d better watch out! If you think I meddle too much now, just wait till I’m a pro too!” said Rachel. “But you do owe your parents something too, Elaine.”
    “Yeah,” Steve agreed, “you’d want Muffin to come see you if you were having the operation, wouldn’t you, Lainey?”
    “Oh, I know. I’m going,” said Elaine, dutiful daughter to Avery Busby as well as loving mother to Muffin. “But I’ll still miss her.” She handed a carrot stick to Muffin, who chewed on it single-mindedly, oblivious to the passions she aroused in the adults.
    “I’m surprised you aren’t taking her along,” said Rachel.
    “Oh, she makes Dad nervous,” explained Elaine regretfully. “And Muffin’s doing so well at Montessori, I hate to have her miss it. And Steve can pick her up.”
    “That’s right,” said Steve.
    “Sure you don’t want me to get her?” asked Rachel. “I’m just hanging around here, waiting for my water to break, and that won’t be for weeks.”
    “No, no, I can get her. The playschool is only a few blocks from work.”
    “Well, phone me if you need anything, okay? How’s your dad taking it, Elaine?”
    Elaine shrugged. “He’s furious. Says he was healthy all those years he was working, so why does his system kick out now that he’s trying to retire? But in him I think it’s a healthy reaction to be angry.”
    “True,” agreed Steve. “I’d only worry if he was meek about it.”
    Elaine wafted a smile at him. “Anyway, he won’t stay out of action long. Mom says he’s planning another African hunt next month. Can’t decide if he wants to go after rhinos or zebras.”
    Steve had a sudden vision of Elaine’s tanned, balding father on his hospital bed, wearing a white gown and a pith helmet, being rolled across the veld by a combination of native bearers and nurses in white, his big-game rifle booming to bring down herds of charging rhinos in the best Hemingway fashion. No mere operation would stop Avery Busby. A spirit as free as Susan’s.
    Rachel seemed to agree. She said, “Boy, you’ve got quite a dad. Well, listen, I’d better get my casserole out of the oven before it fuses together. Your plane is at noon Thursday, right?”
    “Yes. I’ll drop Muffin at Mitzi’s, then drive to the airport. Dad should be coming out of the anesthesia about the time I arrive in Palm Beach.”
    “Not a complicated operation, then?”
    “Just a typical male complaint. But he’s not pleased.”
    “He doesn’t think he’s a typical male,” said Steve. “But he’ll be pleased enough to see you.”
    “Oh, I know. But he’ll bluster around and send Mom and me on lots of pointless errands and won’t admit he hurts.” Elaine sighed in resignation. Avery Busby liked his men rugged and his women refined, and had seen to it that his daughter spent her summers at a Swiss finishing school, her college years at Mount Holyoke. Steve appreciated the results. Convincing Elaine and her formidable father that he would be the best choice among her suitors was one of the great victories of Steve’s life. His elation had lasted months, even years. He felt a