Unfinished Business

twelve years?
    It couldn’t be so simple, Vanessa thought, rubbing at the beginnings of a headache behind her eyes. They both had to know that.
    She turned her back on the piano and walked to the kitchen.
    Loretta was there, putting the finishing touches on a salad she’d arranged in a pale green bowl. Her mother had always liked pretty things, Vanessa remembered. Delicate, fragile things. Those leanings showed now in the lacy place mats on the table, the pale rose sugar bowl, the collection of Depression glass on an open shelf. She had opened the window, and a fragrant spring breeze ruffled the sheer curtains over the sink.
    When she turned, Vanessa saw that her eyes were red, but she smiled, and her voice was clear. “I know you said you weren’t hungry, but I thought you might like a little salad and some iced tea.”
    Vanessa managed an answering smile. “Thank you. The house looks lovely. It seems bigger somehow. I’d always heard that things shrunk as you got older.”
    Loretta turned off the radio. Vanessa regretted the gesture, as it meant they were left with only themselves to fill the silence. “There were too many dark colors before,” Loretta told her. “And too much heavy furniture. At times I used to feel as though the furniture was lurking over me, waiting to push me out of a room.” She caught herself, uneasy and embarrassed. “I saved some of the pieces, a few that were your grandmother’s. They’re stored in the attic. I thought someday you might want them.”
    “Maybe someday,” Vanessa said, because it was easier. She sat down as her mother served the colorful salad. “What did you do with the piano?”
    “I sold it.” Loretta reached for the pitcher of tea. “Years ago. It seemed foolish to keep it when there was no one to play it. And I’d always hated it.” She caught herself again, set the pitcher down. “I’m sorry.”
    “No need. I understand.”
    “No, I don’t think you do.” Loretta gave her a long, searching look. “I don’t think you can.”
    Vanessa wasn’t ready to dig too deep. She picked up her fork and said nothing.
    “I hope the spinet is all right. I don’t know very much about instruments.”
    “It’s a beautiful instrument.”
    “The man who sold it to me told me it was top-of-the-line. I know you need to practice, so I thought… In any case, if it doesn’t suit, you’ve only to—”
    “It’s fine.” They ate in silence until Vanessa fell back on manners. “The town looks very much the same,” she began, in a light, polite voice. “Does Mrs. Gaynor still live on the corner?”
    “Oh yes.” Relieved, Loretta began to chatter. “She’s nearly eighty now, and still walks every day, rain or shine, to the post office to get her mail. The Breckenridges moved away, oh, about five years ago. Went south. A nice family bought their house. Three children. The youngest just started school this year. He’s a pistol. And the Hawbaker boy, Rick, you remember? You used to baby-sit for him.”

    “I remember being paid a dollar an hour to be driven crazy by a little monster with buckteeth and a slingshot.”
    “That’s the one.” Loretta laughed. It was a sound, Vanessa realized, that she’d remembered all through the years. “He’s in college now, on a scholarship.”
    “Hard to believe.”
    “He came to see me when he was home last Christmas. Asked about you.” She fumbled again, cleared her throat. “Joanie’s still here.”
    “Joanie Tucker?”
    “It’s Joanie Knight now,” Loretta told her. “She married young Jack Knight three years ago. They have a beautiful baby.”
    “Joanie,” Vanessa murmured. Joanie Tucker, who had been her best friend since her earliest memory, her confidante, wailing wall and partner in crime. “She has a child.”
    “A little girl. Lara. They have a farm outside of town. I know she’d want to see you.”
    “Yes.” For the first time all day, Vanessa felt something click. “Yes, I want to see her. Her parents, are they well?”
    “Emily died almost eight years ago.”
    “Oh.” Vanessa reached out instinctively to touch her mother’s hand. As Joanie had been her closest friend, so had Emily Tucker been her mother’s. “I’m so sorry.”
    Loretta looked down at their joined hands, and her eyes filled. “I still miss her.”
    “She was the kindest woman I’ve ever known. I wish I had—” But it was too late for regrets. “Dr. Tucker, is he all right?”
    “Ham is fine.” Loretta