Unfinished Business: the classic story from the queen of romance that you won’t be able to put down

Joanie’s lips twitched in sisterly glee. “I’d like to have seen that.”

“It’s hard to believe he’s a doctor.”

“I don’t think anyone was more surprised than Brady.”

“It’s odd he’s never married…” She frowned. “Or anything.”

“I won’t touch ‘anything,’ but he’s never married. There are a number of women in town who’ve developed chronic medical problems since he’s come back.”

“I’ll bet,” Vanessa muttered.

“Anyway, my father’s in heaven. Have you had a chance to see him yet?”

“No, I wanted to see you first.” She took Joanie’s hands again. “I’m so sorry about your mother. I didn’t know until yesterday.”

“It was a rough couple of years. Dad was so lost. I guess we all were.” Her fingers tightened, taking comfort and giving it. “I know you lost your father. I understand how hard it must have been for you.”

“He hadn’t been well for a long time. I didn’t know how serious it was until, well…until it was almost over.” She rubbed a hand over her stomach as it spasmed. “It helped to finish out the engagements. That would have been important to him.”

“I know.” She was starting to speak again when the intercom on the table crackled. There was a whimper, a gurgle, followed by a stream of infant jabbering. “She’s up and ready to roll.” Joanie rose quickly. “I’ll just be a minute.”

Alone, Vanessa stood and began to wander the room. It was filled with so many little, comforting things. Books on agriculture and child-rearing, wedding pictures and baby pictures. There was an old porcelain vase she remembered seeing in the Tucker household as a child. Through the window she could see the barn, and the cows drowsing in the midday sun.

Like something out of a book, she thought. Her own faded wish book.

“Van?”

She turned to see Joanie in the doorway, a round, dark-haired baby on her hip. The baby swung her feet, setting off the bells tied to her shoelaces.

“Oh, Joanie. She’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah.” Joanie kissed Lara’s head. “She is. Would you like to hold her?”

“Are you kidding?” Van came across the room to take the baby. After a long suspicious look, Lara smiled and began to kick her feet again. “Aren’t you pretty?” Van murmured. Unable to resist, she lifted the baby over her head and turned in a circle while Lara giggled. “Aren’t you just wonderful?”

“She likes you, too.” Joanie gave a satisfied nod. “I kept telling her she’d meet her godmother sooner or later.”

“Her godmother?” Confused, Vanessa settled the baby on her hip again.

“Sure.” Joanie smoothed Lara’s hair. “I sent you a note right after she was born. I knew you couldn’t make it back for the christening, so we had a proxy. But I wanted you and Brady to be her godparents.” Joanie frowned at Vanessa’s blank look. “You got the note, didn’t you?”

“No.” Vanessa rested her cheek against Lara’s. “No, I didn’t. I had no idea you were even married until my mother told me yesterday.”

“But the wedding invitation—” Joanie shrugged. “I guess it could have gotten lost. You were always traveling around so much.”

“Yes.” She smiled again while Lara tugged at her hair. “If I’d known… I’d have found a way to be here if I’d known.”

“You’re here now.”

“Yes.” Vanessa nuzzled Lara’s neck. “I’m here now. Oh, God, I envy you, Joanie.”

“Me?”

“This beautiful child, this place, the look in your eyes when you talk about Jack. I feel like I’ve spent twelve years in a daze, while you’ve made a family and a home and a life.”

“We’ve both made a life,” Joanie said. “They’re just different ones. You have so much talent, Van. Even as a kid I was awed by it. I wanted so badly to play like you.” She laughed and enveloped them both in a hug. “As patient as you were, you could barely get me through ‘Chopsticks.’”

“You were hopeless but determined. And I’m so glad you’re still my friend.”

“You’re going to make me cry again.” After a sniffle, Joanie shook her head. “Tell you what, you play with Lara for a few minutes and I’ll go fix us some lemonade. Then we can be catty and gossip about how fat Julie Newton got.”

“Did she?”

“And how Tommy McDonald is losing his hair.” Joanie hooked an arm through Vanessa’s. “Better yet, come in the kitchen with me. I’ll fill you in on Betty Jean Baumgartner’s third husband.”

“Third?”

“And counting.”

There was so much to think about. Not just the funny stories Joanie had shared with her that day, Vanessa thought as she strolled around the backyard at dusk. She needed to think about her life and what she wanted to do with it. Where she belonged. Where she wanted to belong.

For over a decade she’d had little or no choice. Or had lacked the courage to make one, she thought. She had done what her father wanted. He and her music had been the only constants. His drive and his needs had been so much more passionate than hers. And she hadn’t wanted to disappoint him.

Hadn’t dared, a small voice echoed, but she blocked it off.

She owed him everything. He had dedicated his life to her career. While her mother had shirked the responsibility, he had taken her, he had molded her, he had taught her. Every hour she had worked, he had worked. Even when he had become desperately ill, he had pushed himself, managing her career as meticulously as ever. No detail had ever escaped his notice—just as no flawed note had escaped his highly critical ear. He had taken her to the top of her career, and he had been content to bask in the reflected glory.

It couldn’t have been easy for him, she thought now. His own career as a concert pianist had stalled before he’d hit thirty. He had never achieved the pinnacle he’d so desperately strived for. For him, music had been everything. Finally he’d been able to see those ambitions and needs realized in his only child.

Now she was on the brink of turning her back on everything he had wanted for her, everything he had worked toward. He would never have been able to understand her desire to give up a glowing career. Just as he had never been able to understand, or tolerate, her constant terror of performing.

She could remember it even now, even here in the sheltered quiet of the yard. The gripping sensation in her stomach, the wave of nausea she always battled back, the throbbing behind her eyes as she stood in the wings.

Stage fright, her father had told her. She would outgrow it. It was the one thing she had never been able to accomplish for him.

Yet, despite it, she knew she could go back to the concert stage. She could endure. She could rise even higher if she focused herself. If only she knew it was what she wanted.

Perhaps she just needed to rest. She sat on the lawn glider and sent it gently into motion. A few weeks or a few months of quiet, and then she might yearn for the life she had left behind. But for now she wanted nothing more than to enjoy the purple twilight.

From the glider she could see the lights glowing inside the house, and the neighboring houses. She had shared a meal with her mother in the kitchen—or had tried to. Loretta had seemed hurt when Vanessa only picked at her food. How could she explain that nothing seemed to settle well these days? This empty, gnawing feeling in her stomach simply wouldn’t abate.

A little more time, Vanessa thought, and it would ease. It was only because she wasn’t busy, as she should be. Certainly she hadn’t practiced enough that day, or the day before. Even if she decided to cut back professionally, she had no business neglecting her practice.

Tomorrow, she thought, closing her eyes. Tomorrow was soon enough to start a routine. Lulled by the motion of the glider, she gathered her jacket closer. She’d forgotten how quickly the temperature could dip once the sun had fallen behind the mountains.

She heard the whoosh of a car as it cruised by on the road in front of the house. Then the sound of a door closing. From somewhere nearby, a mother called her child in from play. Another light blinked on in a window. A baby cried. Vanessa smiled, wishing she could dig out the old tent she and Joanie had used and pitch it in the backyard. She could sleep there, just listening to the town.

She turned at the sound of a dog barking, then saw the bright fur of a huge golden retriever. It dashed across the neighboring lawn, over the bed where her mother had already planted her pansies and marigolds. Tongue lolling, it lunged at the glider. Before Vanessa could decide whether to be alarmed or amused, it plopped both front paws in her lap and grinned a dog’s grin.