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.”
Besides, not in her wildest dreams could Tess imagine raising a baby in Amanda’s chic mauve and gray condo among all that modern chrome-and-glass furniture. Her own tastes tended toward old-fashioned patchwork quilts, needlepoint pillows and homey antiques.
“Maybe you’re right,” Amanda conceded grudgingly. Pulverizing another ice cube, she sniffed the air. “What smells so good?”
“A casserole. I knew by the time we finished unloading we’d be too tired to cook or go out to eat so I prepared it last night. There’s a salad and a jug of iced tea in the fridge to go with it.”
Amanda rolled her eyes. “Gawd, but you’re domestic. If ever a woman was meant to be a wife and mother it’s you.”
Pain stabbed at Tess.
Seeing her stricken expression, Amanda grimaced. “Oh, Lord, Tess, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. That was a stupid, thoughtless thing to say. Me and my big mouth. When will I ever learn to think before I speak? I should have—”
“It’s all right, Amanda. Really. I don’t expect you to tiptoe around me forever. I have to accept that Tom is gone. Anyway…” She patted the rounded mound beneath her oversize shirt. “I may not be a wife anymore but at least I am going to be a mommy soon.” With a determined smile, she opened another box and began unwrapping a set of hand-blown tumblers.
Mike came and went several more times, hauling in the last of the items from the trailer. When finished, he returned to the living room and looked at Tess over the bar, shifting from one foot to another. “I’m all done, Mrs. Benson. The trailer is empty. What do you want me to do now?”
“Oh, Mike, you’ve done more than enough already. You’ve been a tremendous help. I don’t know how we would have managed without you. But I certainly don’t expect you to do more.”
The boy flushed to the tips of his ears but looked enormously pleased. “That’s okay. I want to. Honest.”
“But won’t your parents be expecting you home for dinner soon?”
“Naw. Anyway, my folks are divorced, so it’s just me’n my dad. He decided since I was going to lend you a hand he’d catch up on some stuff at the job site tonight. When he works late, I usually just zap a frozen pizza in the microwave.”
“In that case, why don’t you join Ms. Sutherland and me for dinner? There’s plenty, and it’s the least I can do after all your hard work.”
Mike’s face lit up. “Hey, that’d be great!”
A short while later when they sat down to eat he nearly tripped over his own feet in his rush to hold out Tess’s chair for her.
She bit back a smile. It had been the same all day. Mike treated her as though she were made of fine china. Since introducing himself the evening before and volunteering to help, he had insisted on doing all the heavy work and had fetched and carried and hovered over her like a mother hen. Tess found his awkward attempts at gallantry sweet and endearing.
She wondered, though, if he had ever been around a pregnant woman before. He seemed fascinated by her condition. Several times she had caught him watching her, the look in his eyes a mixture of awe, curiosity and terror.
Mike devoured his food, eating with more gusto and appreciation than the simple meal merited. “Man, this is super,” he exclaimed, digging into a third plateful. “You’re a terrific cook, Mrs. Benson. I haven’t eaten anything this good since the last time I visited my Grandma McCall in Crockett.”
“Why, thank you, Mike.”
“Me’n Dad usually eat stuff like pizzas or burgers, or TV dinners. Once in a while he’ll grill steaks and nuke a couple of spuds in the microwave, but mostly we eat take-out. Dad’s no great shakes in the kitchen.”
Mike forked up another mouthful of food, but in midchew he looked suddenly worried and hastily swallowed it down. “Course, he’s real busy an’ all,” he tacked on anxiously, as though afraid he’d been disloyal. “He works real hard and puts in long hours. He doesn’t have time for stuff like cooking. But he’s a really great dad.”
“I’m sure he is.” Tess’s smile offered gentle reassurance, and Mike relaxed visibly. She passed him the plate of crackers and he scooped up a handful. “What sort of work does your father do, Mike?”
“He’n Uncle Reilly build houses.”
“Oh, you mean they’re carpenters?” Amanda commented.
“Naw…well…yeah, sorta, I guess. Dad’n Uncle Reilly can do just about anything it takes to build a house if they have to,” he said, flashing a proud grin. “Clear the land, pour concrete, wiring, plumbing, lay carpet—all that stuff. But mostly they’ve got other guys to do those things ’cause they’re always busy with suppliers and inspectors or down at city hall getting permits and junk.
“See, Dad and Uncle Reilly own this company called R and R Construction an’ Dad says that dealing with bureaucrats is a real