September 1976
Cinnamon lay in bed on her side, her head resting against the pillow in the crook of her arm. Rollin was asleep, spooning her, one hand on her breast, the other between her legs – claiming her. The doors to the balcony were partly ajar and she enjoyed the soft dry breeze of the September Santa Ana along with his warm touch.
She remembered nine, nearly ten years ago, the first time they made love. She hadn’t thought the intensity of those first few months discovering each other could ever be matched, but it was like that again. In the week since she returned from her travels they made love more than they had in the past rocky year.
Rollin initiated languorous sessions in her bed and fiery encounters in the shower, the bathtub, the pool house, and on the back of the chesterfield in her study. On Maria’s night off he coaxed her onto the piano and then took her again on the pool table. It was as if he was marking his territory.
Cinnamon tingled just thinking about the things he did, the things he could make her body do. Until she made love with Rollin, she had never imagined this kind of sexual intensity was possible. Their lovemaking took her to a different physical plane, a place she sensed she could only find with him. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined spending her life with a man so sensual. She had always pictured herself with an intellectual companion, a steadfast partner, upstanding and reliable - a Ted or a Jim. But that was before her own sensual side had been awakened.
They were making up for lost time. She knew he hoped his dedication to bringing her pleasure was proof of his commitment to her. His creativity and inventiveness knew no bound. She suddenly found herself aching from him rather than for him. He seemed insatiable, but she had to confess; it was a good ache.
They made love constantly, any moment they could be alone. They’d even had sex on the back seat of his convertible at Griffith Park Observatory after dropping Jennifer at a sleep over nearby. Earlier tonight she had ridden astride him on a chair on the balcony off her bedroom, first backwards then forwards, clutching his head to hold his lips to her now raw nipples.
Had sex? Made love? In this relationship the words were interchangeable. He had always used his body as much as words to express to her how he felt. Her attraction to him was incredibly physical, but the bond went deeper. She realized now she loved him unconditionally for the man he was. She just hadn’t been able to figure out a way to live with him.
Suddenly she felt cold. How long would it last this time? When would his
wanderlust kick back in? When would a fresh young starlet attract his attention?
His flight to
He did have a short attention span. He could muster incredible focus on a role, literally becoming the character, but could only hold it for the run of the play…or the course of the mission. This intensity had served him well in both his professions, but she had trained enough new agents now to recognize Rollin’s key traits and subsequent needs. He required new stimulation constantly; it was how he thrived. He might try to be a forever man, but she believed his success at that would only come with some fundamental change in his make-up. She wanted to accept it, but it still hurt too much.
She wished he hadn’t left the game. She thought it was probably the only thing that could give him enough stimulation and excitement for him to have constancy in a relationship. When they had worked together, he seemed completely willing, in fact eager, to devote all his non-work energy to her.
The irony didn’t escape her. She was the one back in the game, torn by her sense of duty to her daughter and to her country. He was living in the moment with whoever happened to be in the company or on set.
But she couldn’t really fault him. His devotion to Jennifer over the summer, the seriousness he gave to his parental responsibilities, had surprised her. Maybe this time they’d find a way.
Cinnamon tensed as she heard a muffled footfall somewhere in the house. Rollin was deeply asleep and did not stir. He could flip a switch and stop being a spy.
Cinnamon listened carefully for more information as she reviewed a mental checklist.
A quick glance at the clock showed
There was no further sound. Cinnamon sighed and tried to dismiss her worry. It was something outside. Then out of the corner of her eye she caught the bedroom doorknob turn. She girded herself.
The door opened and Jennifer peeked round. She was as surprised to see Cinnamon up as Cinnamon was to see her. They both stared at each other for a second. Cinnamon felt a wave of relief sweep over her.
“Sweetie? What’s wrong?” Cinnamon started out of bed and realized she was nude. She decided to underplay it and without acknowledging her state of undress walked to the bathroom and pulled a robe off a peg. Jennifer wasn’t interested in her at all and had walked toward the bed, looking closely at Rollin.
“I just needed to check on Daddy,” Jennifer whispered and added conspiratorially, “Like he sometimes checks on me.”
Rollin slept peacefully in front of them. His favorite ritual was looking in on Jennifer before he went to sleep. Perhaps the ex-agent was not as stealthy as he thought. “Mom, Daddy doesn’t have a top on. He might get cold.”
Daddy didn’t have any bottoms on either, but Cinnamon just kissed Jennifer’s hair, “He’s fine, Jen. But it’s really late. You should be sleeping.”
“But there’s no school tomorrow and you’re up Mom.”
“Only to check on you,” Cinnamon fibbed. “Come on, let’s go back to your room before your daddy wakes up.”
She indulgently carried her daughter back to bed and sat with her. “Sweetheart, if you wake up in the night, you shouldn’t walk around the house. You should call me, or Maria.”
“Or Daddy?”
Cinnamon sighed and nodded. “Do you understand?” Jen nodded. “Now what about closed doors?”
“Knock first. But Mom it was an emergency.” As she pleaded, she pulled such a Rollin Hand face that Cinnamon struggled to contain a huge grin.
“What made it an emergency?”
“I had a bad dream. I don’t want Daddy to go. First it was just me and Dad and now it’s gonna be just you and me. We need to all be together.”
Cinnamon pulled her daughter into her arms. “Sweetie, Daddy is only going
away because he has to. He needs to go to
“Can we go with him?”
“Not this time. You have school and I have work.”
“When will Daddy come home?”
“As soon as he can.”
“Will he call me on the phone?”
“I’m sure he will.”
“Can we go to the drive-in and see his movie together?”
“Hmm, you’re going to have to ask your dad that question. I’m not sure it’s a movie you would like. How about you get some sleep and ask Dad in the morning.”
“’K, Mom.”
By the next morning, Jennifer’s concern was forgotten as she and Rollin chased each other across the pool. Cinnamon was content lying on the chaise re-charging from her not so restful night. Just before ten the doorbell sounded. With Maria away enjoying her day off, Cinnamon put her coffee mug aside and gathered her wrap, moving for the front door.
The monitor revealed a prim young woman Cinnamon did not recognize. She looked to be in her early twenties and was of medium build, with brown hair, wearing glasses and a blue cardigan.
“Good morning. May I help you?”
“Oh, yes, hello. It’s Miss Summers, from the um library. I have Jennifer’s reader’s certificate and I was hoping to see Rol- um, Mr Hand … Jennifer’s father.”
Cinnamon removed her sunglasses and opened the door. “Hello Miss Summers. I’m Cinnamon Carter, Jennifer’s mother. “
Miss Summers timidly offered her hand. “How do you do.”
She immediately recognized Cinnamon Carter from the covers of fashion magazines she had devoured in high school and college. In fact, her favorite issue of Lady Beautiful with Cinnamon on the cover was on the top shelf of her bookcase. She had not realized Jennifer’s mother was a glamorous model. It all made sense now, Jennifer’s dashingly handsome father was of course married to one of the world’s most beautiful women. Miss Summers felt a pang of jealousy.
Cinnamon could see the young woman was shy and tried to put her at ease. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Jennifer. She loves the library program. And Mrs. Dawson told me before her retirement that she was very happy to have you replace her.”
“Oh, well, thank you. Jennifer loves books. You must read with her often. You and her father that is. He’s quite a reader. He um read to the children’s circle and I um was hoping to see if he was able to read … more … yes, to do more reading for me. I mean for the children.”
Cinnamon smiled. “Of course. They’re both in the pool. Would you like to come through?”
“Oh, yes. Thank you.”
Cinnamon led the way, smiling to herself at a librarian who made house calls. Rollin’s reading must have made quite an impression on Miss Summers. The poor girl became even more awkward as Rollin followed Jennifer out of the pool. She didn’t know what to do with her eyes, drawn to his chest and wet swimsuit, but desperate not to be seen to be staring. She ended up following Rollin’s hands.
Cinnamon could see Rollin was not oblivious to his powers. When he turned
his penetrating blue eyes on Miss Summers and the librarian’s knees dipped,
Cinnamon noted the smile he was holding back. Yes, he liked knowing he could
make Miss Summers swoon. When he said he would be unable to come in and read
because “I’ll be on location in
She teased him about it later that afternoon. Jennifer was visiting at her friend Ashley’s house. They lay together on the chaise on the balcony, reading the paper. Rollin read aloud a story he thought would interest her.
“Hmm, you are a very good reader. I can see why Miss Summers would need to come see you and arrange more sessions.”
Rollin recognized the bait, but he had already consciously decided not to press Cinnamon on anything – not on Ted, not on why she wouldn’t marry him, not on did she now finally believe him when he said that other woman meant nothing to him. He knew he was sweeping some of the issues under the carpet, but all he cared about was how good it felt to have her back. He was not going to jeopardize it days before he left her for the set. Instead he lowered the paper and stretched across her. “You know, reading aloud is only one of my oral proficiencies.”
Cinnamon laughed.
“I’ll prove it.” He took the section of the paper she held from her then maneuvered down her body, raising her skirt and slipping his long fingers under her panties. He lowered the silk and pressed his lips along the tops of her thighs. She spread her legs and he settled between them, kneeling at the side of the chaise.
Cinnamon closed her eyes and felt her breathing deepen. There was nothing in the world like this kind of attention from Rollin. She sighed, feeling her shoulders droop and her whole body become free and open. She was vaguely aware of voices. They felt intrusive but she knew she had to acknowledge them. She opened her eyes and focused her ears.
“There you are!” Jennifer stood on the diving board. She was with a dark-haired girl her age. Next to the board stood a very thin, very tan, very tall woman in a black string bikini with a sheer white blouse open on top. She wore a thick gold necklace and gold cuff bracelets. Her sandals had spike heels and the straps wrapped up her legs.
Cinnamon recognized Jennifer’s friend Ashley Gary and her mother Shirley. They could see Cinnamon sitting on the chaise, but they could not see Rollin.
“Mom, Maria just got back and let us in. Can me and Ashley swim here now?”
Cinnamon felt Rollin clamp his arms against her hips. It was a game for him. He knew he was out of sight and he wasn’t going to stop or let her move. He squeezed Cinnamon’s thighs and pressed his lips to her again. She tried to strong-arm him away, but he was persistent and she didn’t want the onlookers below to be aware of what he was doing. Before she could answer, Jennifer continued.
“And Mrs Gary is looking for Dad.” That got Rollin to stop immediately.
“Hi Ashley. Hi Shirley.” With a burst of strength she pushed Rollin away as she rose. “I’ll come down, just a second.”
Rollin rolled over, staying flat on the chaise and below the balcony balustrades.
Cinnamon skipped down the stairs quickly, fluffing her hair, trying to block out the bells ringing out in alarm. Why was the neighborhood barracuda looking for Rollin?
“Hi Cinnamon. Welcome back. The girls have been swimming together so much this summer I just wanted to thank Rollin for improving Ashley’s strokes. I’m sorry he’s not here.”
“Well I’m not sure where Rollin is, exactly.”
“Of course, I understand.” Shirley seemed to be referring to their summer separation. She may have truly meant to sound sympathetic, but Cinnamon picked up a note of glee. She let it drop.
“How are you Ashley?”
“Fine thanks, Mrs. Hand.”
Cinnamon wondered if Rollin heard that. Shirley did and seemed ready to pointedly correct her daughter, so Cinnamon plunged in. “Shirley, we would be happy to bring Ashley home if the girls would like to swim some more. Is there a particular time?”
Shirley Gary shook her head. “Any time before dinner. Whatever works for your schedule or for Rollin.”
“We’ll drop her off at five.” Cinnamon knew she was stressing “we” and regretted showing defensiveness. She knew this woman would regard it as a sign of weakness.
Maria came through the French doors off the kitchen with two plastic cups of lemonade. “Here you are girls. Please do not get into the water until after I return. Mrs. Gary? I’ll show you through.”
Cinnamon was surprised at Maria’s directness, but knew Maria also had a sixth sense about people and wanted Mrs. Gary gone. Did Maria know more? Had something happened over the summer?
“Mom, will you watch us ‘til Maria comes back?”
“Sure.” The girls leapt happily into the pool.
Maria returned quickly and moved close to Cinnamon. “I am very sorry. I did not realize Mrs. Gary was coming in.”
“Don’t worry.” Cinnamon stared at the pool bottom. Should she worry? She did not want to put Maria on the spot and ask directly.
“I will watch the girls. Later they can help me make brownies for a little snack. Then we will walk Ashley home.”
“It’s your day off.”
“And the great director leaves tomorrow night. You should spend time with him.”
Cinnamon turned to meet Maria’s knowing glance and they shared a smile. Maria would not give her any encouragement if she had any concerns about Rollin. “Thank you, Maria. For everything.”
Cinnamon took the stairs two at a time as she returned to the bedroom. Rollin was sprawled across the bed. He rolled onto his elbow to face her.
“Coast clear?”
Cinnamon nodded. “So will you be having any other visitors today Mr. Hand?”
“Hey nothing to do with me.” He protested.
Cinnamon sat beside him. “I thought you were hiding up here.”
“Had to.”
“Because?”
“Orders from Maria. Steer clear.”
Cinnamon suppressed her grin. “Any reason?”
Rollin pulled Cinnamon closer. “Something about husband number four.” His lips moved to her neck as he coaxed her across her lap.
Cinnamon teased, stroking his chin. “ So you’re not flattered.”
“Nope. Terrified.”
Cinnamon pulled away. “Liar!”
His eyes met hers. “The only role I am interested in is your husband number one. But apparently I still haven’t nailed the audition.”
Cinnamon’s eyes cast down to the bedcover. He knew not to pursue it. His fingers crept under her hem. “Where were we?”
She didn’t want to think about his quip. He had closed the doors to the balcony. She was glad not to hear the girls swimming. Luckily, it was easy to give all her focus to his tender touch.
They made love slowly, gently, and silently. Both seemed wary of being the first to speak.
Knowing his flight was now less than twenty four hours away, they savoured their time together. The light was fading outside, casting shadows along the walls.
Rollin stroked Cinnamon’s arm. “I promised Jen we’d all go to dinner tonight before I go.”
Cinnamon turned toward him. “I’m surprised she hasn’t been up here checking on you.”
“I smelled cookies earlier.”
“Brownies according to Maria’s plan.”
“Let’s take a shower and go find her. She can pick where we go.”
“Why don’t you go tell her and I’ll start the shower?”
Rollin brought her hand to his lips. “Be right back.”
Twenty minutes later Cinnamon finished blow drying her hair as Rollin lingered under the hot steam to shave. She picked up her earrings from the bureau. “Rollin, I’m going to see if Jennifer is dressed.”
“I’ll just be a minute.”
As Cinnamon went in search of her daughter the doorbell rang. Headed downstairs, she met Jennifer running up. “Mom, there’s a lady here for Daddy. She says she’s his friend.”
Cinnamon looked up to see Maria escort a tall attractive brunette into the living room. Cinnamon’s breath caught in her throat. Who was this now?
“Jen, please tell Daddy and then put on your pink dress. I put it on your bed.”
As Jennifer complied, Cinnamon took advantage of her perch halfway down the stairs to watch the caller. The woman looked to be in her early thirties. Her stylish trouser suit was flattering her slender figure. She carried a black leather tote bag. Her posture was poised and assured. She was casually surveying the room.
Cinnamon took a deep breath and entered the room. “I’m sorry. Mr. Hand’s not available. I’m Cinnamon Carter.”
“Sheila Franklin.” She stated, offering her hand and a smile. But Cinnamon could see the wheels turning behind the proper greeting. Cinnamon knew she was being sized up.
“How do you do.” Cinnamon noted no wedding ring and a tasteful watch.
“I’m sorry to stop by unannounced. I work at the studio with Mr. Hand. I’m his production accountant. I just finished the final budget for his picture and wanted to drop it off. I’m on my way to the airport now and thought he might want it for his flight tomorrow.”
While she spoke Cinnamon took in the lace camisole under her jacket and the
musk fragrance she wore. Her hair was swept back with pearl clips. Her toenails,
visible through her stiletto sandals, were bright red. This woman might not
look like an accountant, but more worrying was the fact that the first flights
to
Cinnamon chose her words carefully. “Our daughter has just gone to let him know he has a guest.”
Cinnamon saw the flash of understanding cross the younger woman’s eyes. Pieces of a puzzle had just fallen into place for Miss Franklin. But she was good. An untrained eye would not have noticed that moment of insight. She covered well.
“I do apologize. I can see I’ve come at a bad time. You’re just going out.”
“Yes, a family dinner.” Cinnamon had never spent a day feeling so possessive of Jennifer or Rollin. She knew it was being driven by an unusual insecurity she could not shake.
Cinnamon could hear Rollin double-timing down the stairs. “So where are my two best girls?” He burst into the room with his usual verve, but stopped short. “Sheila…”
Cinnamon was glued on him to see his reaction. There was no way to miss his quick breath or appreciative glance down Miss Franklin’s long legs.
“Hi Rollin.”
No more Mr. Hand. Cinnamon didn’t like the way they held each other’s eyes. It made her feel cold inside.
“Mom?” Jennifer called from upstairs. “I can’t find Dad. Will you tell him the lady is here?”
“I’m down here, Jen. It’s okay.” Rollin called back. “Cinnamon have you –“
“Yes, we’ve just met.” Cinnamon went for friendly and hoped she achieved it.
“Sheila works at the studio.” He turned from Cinnamon to face Sheila again. “So, I can’t be over-budget already, can I?” It was one of his best charmer faces.
Sheila smiled as she reached in her bag. “Not yet. Here’s the final budget with Mike’s sign-off.”
“Terrific. Does Andreas have a copy?”
“Actually, that’s the other reason I stopped by. Mike pulled Andreas this
afternoon. I’ve um been assigned instead. I’m on my way to
“Really? Mike wanted a pro looking after his money. Well congratulations, I hope.”
Sheila nodded. “I hope so too.”
“And um you leave tonight?”
“Yes. I want to get to the hotel a day ahead of you and make sure everything is as it should be for pre-production. But the rest of my itinerary matches yours.”
Cinnamon felt light-headed. “I can see you have some business to discuss. I’ll give Jennifer a hand getting ready. Nice to meet you, Miss Franklin.”
“A pleasure to meet you too.”
Cinnamon climbed the stairs quickly. She didn’t want to linger and listen. She was wary. But she knew she had to trust him. She ached again, and hated the feeling.
The End
Kristine Zensky