Unfinished Business

don’t know.”
    “Do you do your finger exercises every day?”
    “I don’t know.”
    Vanessa gritted her teeth. She had already learned this was Annie’s standard answer for all questions. “You’ve been taking lessons regularly for nearly a year.”
    “I don’t—”
    Vanessa put up a hand. “Why don’t we make this easy? What do you know?”
    Annie just shrugged and swung her feet.
    Giving up, Vanessa sat beside her on the stool. “Annie—and give me a real answer—do you want to take piano lessons?”
    Annie knocked the heels of her orange sneakers together. “I guess.”
    “Is it because your mother wants you to?”
    “I asked if I could.” She stared sulkily down at the keys. “I thought I would like it.”
    “But you don’t.”
    “I kinda do. Sometimes. But I just get to play baby songs.”
    “Mmm.” Sympathetic, Vanessa stroked her hair. “And what do you want to play?”

    “Stuff like Madonna sings. You know, good stuff. Stuff like you hear on the radio.” She slanted Vanessa a look. “My other teacher said that’s not real music.”
    “All music is real music. We could make a deal.”
    Suspicion lighted in Annie’s pale eyes. “What kind of deal?”
    “You practice an hour every day on your finger exercises and the lesson I give you.” She ignored Annie’s moan. “And I’ll buy some sheet music. One of Madonna’s songs. I’ll teach you to play it.”
    Annie’s sulky mouth fell open. “For real?”
    “For real. But only if you practice every day, so that when you come next week I see an improvement.”
    “All right!” For the first time in nearly an hour, she grinned, nearly blinding Vanessa with her braces. “Wait till I tell Mary Ellen. She’s my best friend.”
    “You’ve got another fifteen minutes before you can tell her.” Vanessa rose, inordinately pleased with herself. “Now, why don’t you try that number again?”
    Her face screwed up with concentration, Annie began to play. A little incentive, Vanessa thought with a lifted brow, went a long way.
    An hour later, she was still congratulating herself. Tutoring the girl might be fun after all. And she could indulge her own affection for popular music.
     
    Later in her room, Vanessa ran a finger down the Limoges box her mother had given her. Things were changing for her, faster than she had expected. Her mother wasn’t the woman she had thought she would find. She was much more human. Her home was still her home. Her friends still her friends.
    And Brady was still Brady.
    She wanted to be with him, to have her name linked with his as it once had been. At sixteen she had been so sure. Now, as a woman she was afraid, afraid of making a mistake, of being hurt, of losing.
    People couldn’t just pick up where they had left off. And she could hardly start a new beginning when she had yet to resolve the past.
    She took her time dressing for the family dinner. It was to be a festive occasion, and she was determined to be a part of it. Her deep blue dress was cut slimly, with a splash of multicolored beadwork along one shoulder. She left her hair loose, and added braided earrings studded with sapphires.
    Before she closed her jewelry box, she took out a ring with a tiny emerald. Unable to resist, she slipped it on. It still fit, she thought, and smiled at the way it looked on her finger. With a shake of her head, she pulled it off again. That was just the sort of sentiment she had to learn to avoid. Particularly if she was going to get through an evening in Brady’s company.
    They were going to be friends, she reminded herself. Just friends. It had been a long time since she had been able to indulge in the luxury of a friendship. And if she was still attracted to him—well, that would just add a touch of spice, a little excitement. She wouldn’t risk her heart, or his, on anything more.
    She pressed a hand to her stomach, swearing at the discomfort. Out of her drawer she took an extra roll of antacids. Festive the evening might be, she thought as she took a pill. But it would still be stressful.
    It was time she learned to deal with stress better, she told herself as she stared at her reflection. It was time she refused to allow her body to revolt every time she had to deal with something uncomfortable or unpleasant. She was a grown woman, after all, and a disciplined one. If she could learn to tolerate emotional distress, she could certainly overcome the physical.
    After checking her watch, she started