Cinnamon (Shooting Stars 1)

She smiled.

"They'll put a curse on themselves with their own actions. It might take a while, but those kind always end up eating out their own hearts, honey. Come here," she said and held out her arms.

I stepped forward and she hugged me tightly.

"I love you, Cinnamon. I trust you and I believe you."

"Thank you. Mommy." I said.

"What happened to Clarence?" she asked and I told her.

"You don't want to see him anymore?"

"I think he's moved on. Mommy. We were good friends and maybe we should have left it that way." She nodded.

"I understand. More than you know," she added with a cryptic look in her eyes.

Either nothing was mentioned to Daddy, or if it was, he chose to ignore it. Grandmother Beverly made some veiled remarks at dinner, but Daddy seemed very distracted, lost in his own thoughts. Mommy noticed. too.

"Is something troubling you. Taylor?" She asked.

"What? No," he said quickly, far too quickly.

"You can't treat me like a thin-shelled egg forever," Mommy told him. "It will make me feel Worse."

He gazed at Grandmother Beverly and then smiled at Mommy.

"It's just this market, with the Feds making everyone nervous threatening to raise rates, not to raise rates," he explained. "Some of my clients are driving me bankers."

"I wish you thought about getting yourself into something else. Taylor. You used to talk about establishing your own financial group far estate investments instead of doing battle daily in that madhouse called the stock market."

He nodded.

"Maybe soon," he said.

Grandmother Beverly made a small, throaty sound of skepticism and then nodded to me to start clearing away the dishes.

Mommy glanced at me and I at her. We were spiritual sisters. We shared a sensitivity that told us something wasn't quite right. I had my own ideas about it, of course. an

d I made the mistake of looking away too quickly. Later that evening, Mommy called me into her bedroom.

"Is there something you know, you all know, that Daddy doesn't want to tell me. Cinnamon?'

I shook my head. How could I ever tell her what I had seen?

"You know, worrying about something terrible happening can make you almost as sick as the terrible thing itself," she said.

I nodded, but kept my eyes down. I felt so trapped.

"All right, honey. I don't want you to worry either. You have too much on your mind these days with your schoolwork, your tests and the play coming up. Let's just think about the good things," she suggested.

I smiled and nodded.

"Okay. Mommy."

The week before the play was so intense. We had three evening dress rehearsals in a row so the lighting, the sets, the props and, of course, our performances could be sharpened and coordinated. We made so many mistakes. I was convinced it would be a total disaster. People like Iris Ainsley would get what they wanted, their sweet, vicious revenge. It might very well destroy Miss Hamilton's career as well. I thought. What terrible thing had I done when I took this role and assumed this awesome

responsibility?