Unfinished Business

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.”
    “Yes.” Vanessa knocked his hand away. “She looks wonderful. And so happy.”
    “She is happy.” Undaunted, he picked up her hand to play with her fingers. It was an old, familiar gesture. “You got to meet our godchild.”
    “Yes.” Vanessa tugged her hand free. “Lara’s gorgeous.”
    “Yeah.” He went back to her hair. “She looks like me.”
    The laugh came too quickly to stop. “You’re still conceited. And will you keep your hands off me?”
    “I never was able to.” He sighed, but shifted away an inch. “We used to sit here a lot, remember?”
    “I remember.”
    “I think the first time I kissed you, we were sitting here, just like this.”
    “No.” She folded her arms across her chest.
    “You’re right.” As he knew very well. “The first time was up at the park. You came to watch me shoot baskets.”
    She brushed casually at the knee of her slacks. “I just happened to be walking through.”
    “You came because I used to shoot without a shirt and you wanted to see my sweaty chest.”
    She laughed again, because it was absolutely true. She turned to look at him in the shadowy light. He was smiling, relaxed. He’d always been able to relax, she remembered. And he’d always been able to make her laugh.
    “It—meaning your sweaty chest—wasn’t such a big deal.”
    “I’ve filled out some,” he said easily. “And I still shoot hoops.” This time she didn’t seem to notice when he stroked her hair. “I remember that day. It was at the end of the summer, before my senior year. In three months you’d gone from being that pesty