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

“I’ve been all right alone for a long time.”

Loretta’s gaze dropped. Her hands fell to her sides. “Yes, of course you have. I’m usually home by six-thirty.”

“All right. I’ll see you this evening, then.” She walked to the sink to turn on the faucet. She wanted water, cold and clear.

“Van.”

“Yes?”

“I know I have years to make up for.” Loretta was standing in the doorway when Vanessa turned. “I hope you’ll give me a chance.”

“I want to.” She spread her hands. “I don’t know where either of us is supposed to start.”

“Neither do I.” Loretta’s smile was hesitant, but less strained. “Maybe that’s its own start. I love you. I’ll be happy if I can make you believe that.” She turned quickly and left.

“Oh, Mom,” Vanessa said to the empty house. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Mrs. Driscoll.” Brady patted the eighty-three-year-old matron on her knobby knee. “You’ve got the heart of a twenty-year-old gymnast.”

She cackled, as he’d known she would. “It’s not my heart I’m worried about, Brady. It’s my bones. They ache like the devil.”

“Maybe if you’d let one of your great-grandchildren weed that garden of yours.”

“I’ve been doing my own patch for sixty years—”

“And you’ll do it another sixty,” he finished for her, setting the blood pressure cuff aside. “Nobody in the county grows better tomatoes, but if you don’t ease up, your bones are going to ache.” He picked up her hands. Her fingers were wiry, not yet touched by arthritis. But it was in her shoulders, in her knees, and there was little he could do to stop its march.

He completed the exam, listening to her tell stories about her family. She’d been his second-grade teacher, and he’d thought then she was the oldest woman alive. After nearly twenty-five years, the gap had closed considerably. Though he knew she still considered him the little troublemaker who had knocked over the goldfish bowl just to see the fish flop on the floor.

“I saw you coming out of the post office a couple of days ago, Mrs. Driscoll.” He made a notation on her chart. “You weren’t using your cane.”

She snorted. “Canes are for old people.”

He lowered the chart, lifted a brow. “It’s my considered medical opinion, Mrs. Driscoll, that you are old.”

She cackled and batted a hand at him. “You always had a smart mouth, Brady Tucker.”

“Yeah, but now I’ve got a medical degree to go with it.” He took her hand to help her off the examining table. “And I want you to use that cane—even if it’s only to give John Hardesty a good rap when he flirts with you.”

“The old goat,” she muttered. “And I’d look like an old goat, too, hobbling around on a cane.”

“Isn’t vanity one of the seven deadly sins?”

“It’s not worth sinning if it isn’t deadly. Get out of here, boy, so I can dress.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He left her, shaking his head. He could hound her from here to the moon and she wouldn’t use that damn cane. She was one of the few patients he couldn’t bully or intimidate.

After two more hours of morning appointments, he spent his lunch hour driving to Washington County Hospital to check on two patients. An apple and a handful of peanut butter crackers got him through the afternoon. More than one of his patients mentioned the fact that Vanessa Sexton was back in town. This information was usually accompanied by smirks, winks and leers. He’d had his stomach gouged several times by teasing elbows.

Small towns, he thought as he took five minutes in his office between appointments. The people in them knew everything about everyone. And they remembered it. Forever. Vanessa and he had been together, briefly, twelve years before, but it might as well have been written in concrete, not just carved in one of the trees in Hyattown Park.

He’d forgotten about her—almost. Except when he’d seen her name or picture in the paper. Or when he’d listened to one of her albums, which he’d bought strictly for old times’ sake. Or when he’d seen a woman tilt her head to the side and smile in a way similar to the way Van had smiled.

But when he had remembered, they’d been memories of childhood. Those were the sweetest and most poignant. They had been little more than children, rushing toward adulthood with a reckless and terrifying speed. But what had happened between them had remained beautifully innocent. Long, slow kisses in the shadows, passionate promises, a few forbidden caresses.

Thinking of them now, of her, shouldn’t make him ache. And yet he rubbed a hand over his heart.

It had seemed too intense at the time, because they had faced such total opposition from her father. The more Julius Sexton had railed against their blossoming relationship, the closer they had become. That was the way of youth, Brady thought now. And he had played the angry young man to perfection, he remembered with a smirk. Defying her father, giving his own a lifetime of headaches. Making threats and promises as only an eighteen-year-old could.

If the road had run smoothly, they would probably have forgotten each other within weeks.

Liar, he thought with a laugh. He had never been so in love as he had been that year with Vanessa. That heady, frantic year, when he had turned eighteen and anything and everything had seemed possible.

They had never made love. He had bitterly regretted that after she had been swept out of his life. Now, with the gift of hindsight, he realized that it had been for the best. If they had been lovers, how much more difficult it would be for them to be friends as adults.

That was what he wanted, all he wanted, he assured himself. He had no intention of breaking his heart over her a second time.

Maybe for a moment, when he had first seen her at the piano, his breath had backed up in his lungs and his pulse had scrambled. That was a natural enough reaction. She was a beautiful woman, and she had once been his. And if he had felt a yearning the night before, as they had sat on the glider in the growing dusk, well, he was human. But he wasn’t stupid.

Vanessa Sexton wasn’t his girl anymore. And he didn’t want her for his woman.

“Dr. Tucker.” One of the nurses poked a head in the door. “Your next patient is here.”

“Be right there.”

“Oh, and your father said to stop by before you leave for the day.”

“Thanks.” Brady headed for examining room 2, wondering if Vanessa would be sitting out on the glider that evening.

Vanessa knocked on the door of the Tucker house and waited. She’d always liked the Main Street feeling of the home, with its painted porch and its window boxes. There were geraniums in them now, already blooming hardily. The screens were in the open windows. As a girl, she had often seen Brady and his father removing the storms and putting in the screens—a sure sign that winter was over.

There were two rockers sitting on the porch. She knew Dr. Tucker would often sit there on a summer evening. People strolling by would stop to pass the time or to relay a list of symptoms and complaints.

And every year, over the Memorial Day weekend, the Tuckers would throw a backyard barbecue. Everyone in town came by to eat hamburgers and potato salad, to sit under the shade of the big walnut tree, to play croquet.

He was a generous man, Dr. Tucker, Vanessa remembered. With his time, with his skill. She could still remember his laugh, full and rich, and how gentle his hands were during an examination.

But what could she say to him now? This man who had been such a larger-than-life figure during her childhood? This man who had once comforted her when she’d wept over her parents’ crumbling marriage? This man who was now involved with her mother?

He opened the door himself, and stood there studying her. He was tall, as she remembered. Like Brady, he had a wiry, athletic build. Though his dark hair had turned a steely gray, he looked no older to her. There were lines fanning out around his dark blue eyes. They deepened as he smiled.

Unsure of herself, she started to offer him a hand. Before she could speak, she was caught up in a crushing bear hug. He smelled of Old Spice and peppermint, she thought, and nearly wept. Even that hadn’t changed.

“Little Vanessa.” His powerful voice rolled over her as he squeezed. “It’s good to have you home.”

“It’s good to be home.” Held against him, she believed it. “I’ve missed you.” It came with a rush of feeling. “I’ve really missed you.”

“Let me have a look at you.” Still standing in the doorway, he held her at arm’s length. “My, my, my…” he murmured. “Emily always said you’d be a beauty.”