Building Dreams. Ginna Gray

a bitterly frustrating experience to stand by, helpless to prevent it, and watch it all crumble because of circumstances beyond their control.

      Memories of that time were painful even now, and Ryan’s jaw clenched. He remembered how desperate he had felt, how hard he and Reilly had struggled to hang on. They had been forced to unload almost all of the property they had acquired for future development, taking a loss just to get out from under the debt. All they had managed to retain title to was the wooded tract in northwest Houston, and that only because it was theirs, free and clear. Ryan had even been forced to sell his home—the enormous, extravagant home that he had built for Julia—just to keep the company afloat.

      Ryan’s fingers clenched around the steering wheel. Julia had never forgiven him for that. To his wife, that luxurious house, their upscale life-style, all the trappings that went with it, were essential. More essential, it turned out, than their marriage, or him…or even their son. Julia had been unable, or unwilling, to face a life without money and status.

      It had been tough, these past eight years, raising a boy alone and at the same time scrabbling to hold on to his business. For a while it had been touch and go, but he’d gotten through it. Mike was one hell of a kid; a father couldn’t ask for better. And despite several shaky years, the company was still operating.

      It galled Ryan when R & R, a firm that had once built prestigious homes, had been reduced to bidding on remodeling jobs or any other piddling project that came along. However, it had been those small jobs that had paid the bills and allowed them to scrape by…barely.

      Their most recent job was an apartment complex renovation that was nearing completion. They were scheduled to meet with the owner in less than an hour for a walk-through inspection. Rather than waste time going home to change, Ryan drove straight to the project. Both he and Reilly kept a set of spare work clothes in the trailer that served as their on-site office.

      They had almost reached the site when the car phone emitted a chirping ring.

      Ryan snatched it up at once. The instrument was an expense he normally would not have bothered with, but after Julia left, he had gotten it so that his son would be able to contact him wherever he was.

      “R & R Construction. Ryan McCall speaking.”

      “Hi, Dad. It’s me. I’m over at Tess’s.”

      “Again? I thought you got her place straightened up yesterday.”

      “We did, but today I’m helping her hang curtains. I just wanted to let you know that we have to make a quick trip to the hardware store for some bolts. Just in case you called looking for me.”

      Ryan sighed impatiently. “All right. But look, son, be home early, okay? The Astros are playing in the Dome tonight. I thought we’d take in the game. How about it?”

      “Aw-right! You gotta deal, Dad! See you about six.”

      “Damn.” Ryan slammed the receiver down. At the same time he brought the Cherokee to a sliding halt in front of the office.

      “Something wrong?” Reilly asked, but his brother was already out of the vehicle and striding for the trailer. When Reilly followed him inside he found Ryan sprawled in his desk chair, his face like a thundercloud.

      “An Astros game? Since when? You said earlier we were going to stay late and work up a bid on the McElhaney project?”

      “I changed my mind, okay. I think it’s more important that I spend some time with Mike.”

      Reilly leaned back against his own desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “All right. What’s bugging you?”

      The question earned him a sour look. “What’s bugging me? I’ll tell you what’s bugging me. Mike is spending practically every waking moment at the widow Benson’s apartment. He’s been over there everyday for four straight days, ever since Saturday when she started moving in. In the mornings he gobbles down his breakfast and bolts out of the apartment like he’s going to a fire. All I hear out of him is ‘Tess this’ and ‘Tess that,”’ he mimicked in a nasty singsong. The mere mention of the woman’s name made Ryan want to grind his teeth.

      “It’ll pass. Anyway, where’s the harm? She seems like a nice person.”

      Ryan snorted. “People are seldom what they seem. Especially women. Regardless, I don’t want Mike to get attached to her.”

      “Why not? The boy could use some feminine influence in his life.”

      “He has Mom and his aunts for that,” Ryan argued. “And there’s Erin and Elise and David’s wife, Abby. He has plenty of women in his life.”

      “C’mon, Ryan. They all live in other towns. Erin and Elise live in another state, for Pete’s sake. Mike sees them on holidays and at family gatherings. Look, the kid’s been motherless for the last eight years. It’s only natural that he’d try to find a substitute. Face it, brother. Mike needs a mother.”

      “The hell he does! Mike and I are doing just fine on our own.” Glaring at his brother, Ryan thumbed his chest angrily. “Whatever my son needs, I’ll give him.”

      “Hey. Don’t get defensive on me. You’ve done a great job with Mike. Nobody’s saying you haven’t. But face it, there are just some things that only a mother can provide.”

      “And you expect me to believe that’s why Mike is hanging around the Benson woman? Because he’s looking for a mother substitute?” He gave a bark of scornful laughter. “Yeah, right. That’s why he picked a delectable redhead with sexy eyes.”

      A grin spread over Reilly’s face. “So you noticed, huh?”

      “I’m not blind,” Ryan snapped. “Just because I don’t care for women or trust them doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the way they look.”

      “Good. I’m glad to hear it,” his brother said with a wink. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet where women are concerned.” With a smug smile on his face, Reilly walked over to a metal locker, removed a pair of jeans and a chambray work shirt, sent his brother a taunting wink and disappeared into the bathroom.

      Ryan’s icy stare followed him and bore into the bathroom door. His eyes narrowed into two slits. Don’t count on it, brother.

      Balancing on Tess’s kitchen step stool, Mike hooked the curtain rod over the bracket and snapped it into place. “There. That does it. That’s the last one,” he said, and jumped down in one agile leap.

      Tess moved in and attached the tiebacks to the dotted Swiss curtains. When she had fluffed the folds and adjusted the drape just so, they both stepped back to admire their handiwork.

      “Oh, Mike. They look lovely. In fact, the whole place looks lovely.”

      Turning in a slow circle, she surveyed with pleasure what she could see of the apartment, which at present was the nursery, where she and Mike were, and a bit of her bedroom across the hall. All of her furniture was arranged where she wanted it, curtains or draperies framed every window, her pictures and paintings hung on the walls and all of her familiar keepsakes and decorative items were in place. Every box and carton had been unpacked and their contents put away. There wasn’t so much as a scrap of bubble wrap or packing material in sight.

      “I can’t believe we got it all done so quickly. I really don’t know how to thank you, Mike. You’ve been such a tremendous help. With Amanda out of town on assignment these past few days, I would have been on my own if it hadn’t been for you. I never would have managed without you.”

      She turned to Mike, but her grateful smile collapsed when she saw his face. He looked as though he had just lost his best friend. “Why, Mike. What’s wrong?”

      “Nothing.” He shrugged and looked at the floor, his mouth sulky. “We’re all done, huh?”

      “Yes. There’s not a single thing left to do.”

      “I guess that means I won’t be seeing