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

“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.”