Unfinished Business (3 page)

T
he 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.”