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

The quiet applause behind her had her spinning around. Seated on one of the elegant little chairs was a man. Though the sun was in her eyes and twelve years had passed, she recognized him.

“Incredible.” Brady Tucker rose and crossed to her. His long, wiry frame blocked out the sun for an instant, and the light glowed like a nimbus around him. “Absolutely incredible.” As she stared at him, he held out a hand and smiled. “Welcome home, Van.”

She rose to face him. “Brady,” she murmured, then rammed her fist solidly into his stomach. “You creep.”

He sat down hard as the air exploded out of his lungs. The sound of it was every bit as sweet to her as the music had been. Wincing, he looked up at her. “Nice to see you, too.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Your mother let me in.” After a couple of testing breaths, he rose. She had to tilt her head back to keep her eyes on his. Those same fabulous blue eyes, in a face that had aged much too well. “I didn’t want to disturb you while you were playing, so I just sat down. I didn’t expect to be sucker-punched.”

“You should have.” She was delighted to have caught him off guard, and to have given him back a small portion of the pain he’d given her. His voice was the same, she thought, deep and seductive. She wanted to hit him again just for that. “She didn’t mention that you were in town.”

“I live here. Moved back almost a year ago.” She had that same sexy pout. He fervently wished that at least that much could have changed. “Can I tell you that you look terrific, or should I put up my guard?”

How to remain composed under stress was something she’d learned very well. She sat, carefully smoothing her skirts. “No, you can tell me.”

“Okay. You look terrific. A little thin, maybe.”

The pout became more pronounced. “Is that your medical opinion, Dr. Tucker?”

“Actually, yes.” He took a chance and sat beside her on the piano stool. Her scent was as subtle and alluring as moonlight. He felt a tug, not so much unexpected as frustrating. Though she sat beside him, he knew she was as distant as she had been when there had been an ocean between them.

“You’re looking well,” she said, and wished it wasn’t so true. He still had the lean, athletic body of his youth. His face wasn’t as smooth, and the ruggedness maturity had brought to it only made it more attractive. His hair was still a rich, deep black, and his lashes were just as long and thick as ever. And his hands were as strong and beautiful as they had been the first time they had touched her. A lifetime ago, she reminded herself, and settled her own hands in her lap.

“My mother told me you had a position in New York.”

“I did.” He was feeling as awkward as a schoolboy. No, he realized, much more awkward. Twelve years before, he’d known exactly how to handle her. Or he’d thought he did. “I came back to help my father with his practice. He’d like to retire in a year or two.”

“I can’t imagine it. You back here,” she elaborated. “Or Doc Tucker retiring.”

“Times change.”

“Yes, they do.” She couldn’t sit beside him. Just a residual of those girlish feelings, she thought, but she rose anyway. “It’s equally hard to picture you as a doctor.”

“I felt the same way when I was slogging through medical school.”

She frowned. He was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt and running shoes—exactly the kind of attire he’d worn in high school. “You don’t look like a doctor.”

“Want to see my stethoscope?”

“No.” She stuck her hands in her pockets. “I heard Joanie was married.”

“Yeah—to Jack Knight, of all people. Remember him?”

“I don’t think so.”

“He was a year ahead of me in high school. Football star. Went pro a couple of years, then bunged up his knee.”

“Is that the medical term?”

“Close enough.” He grinned at her. There was still a little chip in his front tooth that she had always found endearing. “She’ll be crazy to see you again, Van.”

“I want to see her, too.”

“I’ve got a couple of patients coming in, but I should be done by six. Why don’t we have some dinner, and I can drive you out to the farm?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Because the last time I was supposed to have dinner with you—dinner and the senior prom—you stood me up.”

He tucked his hands in his pockets. “You hold a grudge a long time.”

“Yes.”

“I was eighteen years old, Van, and there were reasons.”

“Reasons that hardly matter now.” Her stomach was beginning to burn. “The point is, I don’t want to pick up where we left off.”

He gave her a considering look. “That wasn’t the idea.”

“Good.” That was just one more thing she could damn him for. “We both have our separate lives, Brady. Let’s keep it that way.”

He nodded, slowly. “You’ve changed more than I’d thought.”

“Yes, I have.” She started out, stopped, then looked over her shoulder. “We both have. But I imagine you still know your way out.”

“Yeah,” he said to himself when she left him alone. He knew his way out. What he hadn’t known was that she could still turn him inside out with one of those pouty looks.

Chapter 2

The Knight farm was rolling hills and patches of brown and green field. The hay was well up, she noted, and the corn was tender green shoots. A gray barn stood behind a trio of square paddocks. Nearby, chickens fussed and pecked at the ground. Plump spotted cows lolled on a hillside, too lazy to glance over at the sound of an approaching car, but geese rushed along the bank of the creek, excited and annoyed by the disturbance.

A bumpy gravel lane led to the farmhouse. At the end of it, Vanessa stopped her car, then slowly alighted. She could hear the distant putting of a tractor and the occasional yip-yipping of a cheerful dog. Closer was the chatter of birds, a musical exchange that always reminded her of neighbors gossiping over a fence.

Perhaps it was foolish to feel nervous, but she couldn’t shake it. Here in this rambling three-story house, with its leaning chimneys and swaying porches, lived her oldest and closest friend—someone with whom she had shared every thought, every feeling, every wish and every disappointment.

But those friends had been children—girls on the threshold of womanhood, where everything is at its most intense and emotional. They hadn’t been given the chance to grow apart. Their friendship had been severed quickly and completely. Between that moment and this, so much—too much—had happened to both of them. To expect to renew those ties and feelings was both naive and overly optimistic.

Vanessa reminded herself of that, bracing herself for disappointment, as she started up the cracked wooden steps to the front porch.

The door swung open. The woman who stepped out released a flood of stored memories. Unlike the moment when she had started up her own walk and seen her mother, Vanessa felt none of the confusion and grief.

She looks the same, was all Vanessa could think. Joanie was still sturdily built, with the curves Vanessa had envied throughout adolescence. Her hair was still worn short and tousled around a pretty face. Black hair and blue eyes like her brother, but with softer features and a neat Cupid’s-bow mouth that had driven the teenage boys wild.

Vanessa started to speak, searched for something to say. Then she heard Joanie let out a yelp. They were hugging, arms clasped hard, bodies swaying. The laughter and tears and broken sentences melted away the years.

“I can’t believe—you’re here.”

“I’ve missed you. You look… I’m sorry.”

“When I heard you—” Shaking her head, Joanie pulled back, then smiled. “Oh, God, it’s good to see you, Van.”

“I was almost afraid to come.” Vanessa wiped her cheek with her knuckles.

“Why?”

“I thought you might be polite and offer me some tea and wonder what we were supposed to talk about.”

Joanie took a rumpled tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose. “And I thought you might be wearing a mink and diamonds and stop by out of a sense of duty.”

Vanessa gave a watery laugh. “My mink’s in storage.”

Joanie grabbed her hand and pulled her through the door. “Come in. I might just put that tea on after all.”

The entryway was bright and tidy. Joanie led Vanessa into a living room of faded sofas and glossy mahogany, of chintz curtains and rag rugs. Evidence that there was a baby in the house was found in teething rings, rattles and stuffed bears. Unable to resist, Vanessa picked up a pink-and-white rattle.

“You have a little girl.”

“Lara.” Joanie beamed. “She’s wonderful. She’ll be up from her morning nap soon. I can’t wait for you to see her.”

“It’s hard to imagine.” Vanessa gave the rattle a shake before setting it down again. It made a pretty, musical sound that had her smiling. “You’re a mother.”

“I’m almost used to it.” She took Vanessa’s hand again as they sat on the sofa. “I still can’t believe you’re here. Vanessa Sexton, concert pianist, musical luminary and globe-trotter.”

Vanessa winced. “Oh, please, not her. I left her in D.C.”

“Just let me gloat a minute.” She was still smiling, but her eyes, eyes that were so like her brother’s, were searching Vanessa’s face. “We’re so proud of you. The whole town. There would be something in the paper or a magazine, something on the news—or an event like that PBS special last year. No one would talk about anything else for days. You’re Hyattown’s link to fame and fortune.”

“A weak link,” Vanessa murmured, but she smiled. “Your farm, Joanie—it’s wonderful.”

“Can you believe it? I always thought I’d be living in one of those New York lofts, planning business lunches and fighting for a cab during rush hour.”

“This is better.” Vanessa settled back against the sofa cushions. “Much better.”

Joanie toed off her shoes, then tucked her stockinged feet under her. “It has been for me. Do you remember Jack?”

“I don’t think so. I can’t remember you ever talking about anyone named Jack.”

“I didn’t know him in high school. He was a senior when we were just getting started. I remember seeing him in the halls now and then. Those big shoulders, and that awful buzz haircut during the football season.” She laughed and settled comfortably. “Then, about four years ago, I was giving Dad a hand in the office. I was doing time as a paralegal in Hagerstown.”

“A paralegal?”

“A former life,” Joanie said with a wave of her hand. “Anyway, it was during Dad’s Saturday office hours, and Millie was sick— You remember Millie?”

“Oh, yes.” Vanessa grinned at the memory of Abraham Tucker’s no-nonsense nurse.

“Well, I jumped into the breach for the weekend appointments, and in walks Jack Knight, all six foot three, two hundred and fifty pounds of him. He had laryngitis.” A self-satisfied sigh escaped her. “There was this big, handsome hulk trying to tell me, in cowboy-and-Indian sign language, that no, he didn’t have an appointment, but he wanted to see the doctor. I squeezed him in between a chicken pox and an earache. Dad examined him and gave him a prescription. A couple hours later he was back, with these raggedy-looking violets and a note asking me to the movies. How could I resist?”

Vanessa laughed. “You always were a soft touch.”

Joanie rolled her big blue eyes. “Tell me about it. Before I knew it, I was shopping for a wedding dress and learning about fertilizer. It’s been the best four years of my life.” She shook her head. “But tell me about you. I want to hear everything.”

Vanessa shrugged. “Practice, playing, traveling.”

“Jetting off to Rome, Madrid, Mozambique—”

“Sitting on runways and in hotel rooms,” Vanessa finished for her. “It isn’t nearly as glamorous as it might look.”

“No, I guess partying with famous actors, giving concerts for the queen of England and sharing midnight schmoozes with millionaires gets pretty boring.”

“Schmoozes?” Vanessa had to laugh. “I don’t think I ever schmoozed with anyone.”

“Don’t burst my bubble, Van.” Joanie leaned over to brush a hand down Vanessa’s arm. All the Tuckers were touchers, Vanessa thought. She’d missed that. “For years I’ve had this image of you glittering among the glittery. Celebing among the celebrities, hoitying among the toity.”

“I guess I’ve done my share of hoitying. But mostly I’ve played the piano and caught planes.”

“It’s kept you in shape,” Joanie said, sensing Vanessa’s reluctance to talk about it. “I bet you’re still a damn size four.”

“Small bones.”

“Wait until Brady gets a load of you.”

Her chin lifted a fraction. “I saw him yesterday.”

“Really? And the rat didn’t call me.” Joanie tapped a finger against her lips. There was laughter just beneath them. “So, how did it go?”

“I hit him.”

“You—” Joanie choked, coughed, recovered. “You hit him? Why?”

“For standing me up for his senior prom.”

“For—” Joanie broke off when Vanessa sprang to her feet and began pacing.

“I’ve never been so angry. I don’t care how stupid it sounds. That night was so important to me. I thought it would be the most wonderful, the most romantic night of my life. You know how long we shopped for the perfect dress.”

“Yes,” Joanie murmured. “I know.”

“I’d been looking forward to that night for weeks and weeks.” On a roll now, she swirled around the room. “I’d just gotten my license, and I drove all the way into Frederick to get my hair done. I had this little sprig of baby’s breath behind my ear.” She touched the spot now, but there was no sentiment in the gesture. “Oh, I knew he was unreliable and reckless. I can’t count the number of times my father told me. But I never expected him to dump me like that.”

“But, Van—”

“I didn’t even leave the house for two days after. I was so sick with embarrassment, so hurt. And then, with my parents fighting. It was—oh, it was so ugly. Then my father took me to Europe, and that was that.”

Joanie bit her lip as she considered. There were explanations she could offer, but this was something Brady should straighten out himself. “There might be more to it than you think” was all she said.

Recovered now, Vanessa sat again. “It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.” Then she smiled. “Besides, I think I got the venom out when I punched him in the stomach.”

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.

“Well, hello there.” She ruffled his ears. “Where did you come from?”

“From two blocks down, at a dead run.” Panting, Brady walked out of the shadows. “I made the mistake of taking him to the office today. When I went to put him in the car, he decided to take a hike.” He paused in front of the glider. “Are you going to punch me again, or can I sit down?”

Vanessa continued to pet the dog. “I probably won’t hit you again.”

“That’ll have to do.” He dropped down on the glider and stretched out his legs. The dog immediately tried to climb in his lap. “Don’t try to make up,” Brady said, pushing the dog off again.

“He’s a pretty dog.”

“Don’t flatter him. He’s already got an inflated ego.”

“They say people and their pets develop similarities,” she commented. “What’s his name?”

“Kong. He was the biggest in his litter.” Hearing his name, Kong barked twice, then raced off to chase the shadows. “I spoiled him when he was a puppy, and now I’m paying the price.” Spreading his arms over the back of the glider, he let his fingers toy with the ends of her hair. “Joanie tells me you drove out to the farm today.”