Unfinished Business - Nora Roberts Page 0,20

“You and my father had been divorced for years before he died. You’re certainly free to choose your own companions.”

The censure in her daughter’s voice had Loretta’s spine straightening. There were many things, many, that she regretted, that had caused her shame. Her relationship with Abraham Tucker, wasn’t one of them.

“You’re absolutely right,” she said, her voice cool. “I’m not embarrassed, and I certainly don’t feel guilty, about seeing Ham. We’re adults, and both of us are free.” The tilt of her chin as she spoke was very like her daughter’s. “Perhaps I felt odd about what started between us, because of Emily. She had been my oldest and dearest friend. But Emily was gone, and both Ham and I were alone. And maybe the fact that we both had loved Emily had something to do with our growing closer. I’m very proud that he cares for me,” she said, color dotting her cheeks. “In the past few years, he’s given me something I’ve never had from another man. Understanding.”

She turned and hurried up the stairs. She was standing in front of her dresser, removing her jewelry, when Vanessa came in.

“I apologize if I seemed too critical.”

Loretta slapped the pearls down on the wood. “I don’t want you to apologize like some polite stranger, Vanessa. You’re my daughter. I’d rather you shouted at me. I’d rather you slammed doors or stormed into your room the way you used to.”

“I nearly did.” She walked farther into the room, running a hand over the back of a small, tufted chair. Even that was new, she thought—the little blue lady’s chair that so suited the woman who was her mother. Calmer now, and more than a little ashamed, she chose her next words carefully. “I don’t resent your relationship with Dr. Tucker. Really. It surprised me, certainly. And what I said before is true. It’s none of my business.”

“Van—”

“No, please.” Vanessa held up a hand. “When I first drove into town, I thought nothing had changed. But I was wrong. It’s difficult to accept that. It’s difficult to accept that you moved on so easily.”

“Moved on, yes,” Loretta said. “But not easily.”

Vanessa looked up, passion in her eyes. “Why did you let me go?”

“I had no choice,” Loretta said simply. “And at the time I tried to believe it was what was best for you. What you wanted.”

“What I wanted?” The anger she wanted so badly to control seeped out as bitterness. “Did anyone ever ask me what I wanted?”

“I tried. In every letter I wrote you, I begged you to tell me if you were happy, if you wanted to come home. When you sent them back unopened, I knew I had my answer.”

The color ran into and then out of Vanessa’s face as she stared at Loretta. “You never wrote me.”

“I wrote you for years, hoping that you might find the compassion to open at least one.”

“There were no letters,” Vanessa said, very deliberately, her hands clenching and unclenching.

Without a word, Loretta went over to an enameled trunk at the foot of her bed. She drew out a deep box and removed the lid. “I kept them,” she said.

Vanessa looked in and saw dozens of letters, addressed to her at hotels throughout Europe and the States. Her stomach convulsing, she took careful breaths and sat on the edge of the bed.

“You never saw them, did you?” Loretta murmured. Vanessa could only shake her head. “He would deny me even such a little thing as a letter.” With a sigh, Loretta set the box back in the trunk.

“Why?” Vanessa’s throat was raw. “Why did he stop me from seeing your letters?”

“Maybe he thought I would interfere with your career.” After a moment’s hesitation, Loretta touched her shoulder. “He was wrong. I would never have stopped you from reaching for something you wanted and deserved so much. He was, in his way, protecting you and punishing me.”

“For what?”

Loretta turned and walked to the window.

“Damn it, I have a right to know.” Fury had her on her feet and taking a step forward. Then, with an involuntary gasp, she was clutching her stomach.

“Van?” Loretta took her shoulders, moving her gently back to the bed. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing.” She gritted her teeth against the grinding pain. It infuriated her that it could incapacitate her, even for a moment, in front of someone else. “Just a spasm.”

“I’m going to call Ham.”

“No.” Vanessa grabbed her arm. Her long musician’s fingers were strong and firm. “I don’t