Ginna Gray - Building Dreams

“Ah, knock it off, Uncle Reilly,” Mike snapped, surprising both men. “Tess isn’t that kind of woman.”

“Hey, Mike…buddy. What gives? I didn’t mean any—”

“Oh, just forget it.” Flouncing back in the seat, Mike stared out the window, his young face sulky.

The two brothers exchanged a baffled look and fell silent.

Mike didn’t say a word all the way to the ball park, but he was never able to stay angry for long. When they arrived and he spotted his teammates he let out a whoop and rushed off to greet them, his pique forgotten.

“Now, what do you suppose that was all about?” Reilly mused.

Ryan stared after his son, a worried frown drawing his thick eyebrows together. “Beats me.”

For several seconds the two women sat in Tess’s car, staring after the McCalls’ departing vehicle.

“Well,” Amanda huffed. “He certainly won’t win the good neighbor award. That man’s about as warm and friendly as a coiled rattlesnake. Who would’ve guessed that a sweet boy like Mike would have a father like that.”

“He was rather abrupt.”

“Abrupt! The man was downright rude.”

“Yes…well…maybe we shouldn’t be too quick to judge him. It could be that he’s just having a bad day or something.”

Amanda groaned and rolled her eyes. “I swear, Tess Benson, you are the most tolerant, good-natured, incurably optimistic person I’ve ever known. It’s disgusting. The man is mannerless and abrasive. He’s got the personality of coarse-grit sandpaper, for heaven’s sake.”

Tess laughed. “Maybe. Or maybe he’s simply got problems right now. Or maybe he’s just in a bad mood. We all have days when we’re mad at the world and would just as soon people stayed away. Since I’m going to be living next door to the man I’d prefer to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“You would,” Amanda muttered.

The rumble of a diesel engine and the squeal and hiss of air brakes announced the arrival of the moving van. The long tractor-trailer rig lumbered into the parking lot and rolled to a stop beside the car.

Tess looked up at the apartment building, and drew a deep breath. “I guess it’s time to get started. This stuff won’t get unloaded by itself.” With a determined sigh, she reached for the door handle and slowly, awkwardly, hauled her very pregnant body out of the car.

Four hours later, Tess stood in the kitchen of her new apartment, knee-deep in boxes, wadded newspaper and bubble pack, wearily rubbing her aching back.

“Where ya want me to put this one, Mrs. Benson?”

She looked around in time to see Mike come through the front door, staggering under the weight of the carton he carried. The thirteen-year-old was sweating profusely, and the tendons in his neck and underdeveloped arms were corded and straining.

“Mike! You shouldn’t carry something that heavy up the stairs all by yourself! Here, let me help.”

From the look of horror on his young face you would have thought Tess had suggested she bench-press five hundred pounds. He clutched the carton tighter and held it out of her reach when she came around the end of the bar. “No! You can’t do that!”

“The kid’s right.” Amanda sauntered in through the open doorway carrying a half dozen clothes-filled hangers hooked over each shoulder. “In your condition, you haven’t any business trying to manage something that heavy.”

“But—”

“I can handle it, Mrs. Benson. Honest. Just tell me where you want it.”

“C’mon, sweetie, follow me. I’ll show you.” With a don’t you-dare-say-a-word look for Tess, Amanda maneuvered through the maze of boxes and jumbled furniture with her unhurried, hip-swaying walk and led the boy out of the room.

Tess watched them go, feeling properly chastised and more than a little useless.

“How about it, Mike? Whaddaya say we take a lemonade break,” Amanda suggested a minute later, when she and Mike returned.

“No thanks, Ms. Sutherland. But you go ahead. There’re just a few more boxes left in the trailer. I’ll get ’em while you rest. They’re too heavy for you to carry anyway.”

“Now there goes one heck of a nice kid,” Amanda drawled, hitching herself up onto a stool beside the bar.

“Yes, he is. But I’m afraid we’re taking advantage of him.”

“Are you kidding! He’s having a ball. Look, Tess, trust me on this. If there is one thing I know, it’s the male animal. The early teens are tough on a boy. Their hormones are just beginning to bubble and they’re filled with all kinds of doubt and anxiety about their budding masculinity. Believe me, lending a hand to two women makes Mike feel manly and strong.”

“Still…I could have helped. I’m not an invalid you know.”

“No. But you’re too far along to be doing any lifting and toting. And remember, when I let you talk me into this, our agreement was that you would leave all that to me. With Mike helping there is even less reason for you to concern yourself. We can take care of the heavy stuff. You just unpack boxes.”

Tess made a face, but she didn’t argue—not when Amanda used that tone.

As her friend drank her lemonade, Tess studied her, bemused. Amanda wore a pink tank top and skimpy white shorts that showed off her spectacular leggy figure. Her lioness mane of streaked blond hair was piled atop her head and twisted into a loose knot. Her appearance today was not quite that of the sharp sophisticate seen daily on television reporting local news events, but despite the heat and humidity and hours spent in sweaty, back-breaking work, Amanda still managed to look elegant. She made Tess feel like a beached whale. An exhausted, washed-out beached whale.

They had been best friends since grade school. Even then Amanda had been a beauty, exuding an innate female magnetism that not even obnoxious six-year-old boys had been able to resist. With the passage of time her allure had merely grown stronger. The combination of keen intelligence, stunning looks and an aura of sultry sensuality continued to draw males like flies to honey.

For the same reasons, most females felt threatened by Amanda. For Tess, however, her friend’s looks and appeal had never been a problem. Tess had been the only child of adoring parents who had showered her with love and attention and made her feel special and confident of her own worth.

Not that she wasn’t aware of her shortcomings. Tess knew full well that she was at best attractive, in a girl-next-door sort of way. Her shoulder-length hair was carroty, that aggravating shade between red and blond that was both, yet neither. Unfortunately, she had the fair skin that went with it, the kind that never tanned but turned lobster red when exposed to the sun for even a modest period of time.

Even now, at twenty-nine, Tess had a splattering of freckles across the bridge of her short, slightly turned-up nose. Her mouth was just a little too wide, her chin just a bit too firm for her heart-shaped face. Her only claim to real beauty was her eyes. Big and wide set, they were the color of mellow whiskey and surrounded by long, dark brown lashes, which Tess considered a minor miracle, considering her fair coloring.

Though far from being a drop-dead gorgeous femme fatale, Tess had long ago discovered that there were plenty of men around who preferred the wholesome type. Certainly, she had never lacked for male attention, not even when out with Amanda.

Amanda fished an ice cube out of her glass and popped it into her mouth, crunching it with her teeth. “I still don’t like the idea of you living here alone, you know,” she muttered around the icy chunks. “I don’t see why you don’t just come and live with me.”

“Amanda, we’ve been all through this. I appreciate the offer. Truly I do. But surely you can see it would never work. You’re not accustomed to children. I don’t think you have any idea of how completely a baby takes over your life. And anyway, you know you like living alone, not having to accommodate anyone else. As much as I love you, you have to admit, we have completely different life-styles. Believe me, for the sake of our friendship, it’s much better this way.”