“School counselor to begin with, and then a therapist. I’m not a psychologist or psychiatrist,” she replied, “and NPD stands for narcissistic personality disorder. It means that he’s got exaggerated feelings of self-importance, a need for self-admiration, and a lack of empathy. People with that problem spend too much time worrying about success in everything, as well as their personal appearance. They tend to take advantage of the people around them. The problem usually starts early in childhood. He should’ve had some kind of therapy when he was a little boy.”

“How do I help him now?” Mack asked.

Lily just shook her head. Mack was truly a good brother if he’d taken that kind of abuse all those years and still wanted to help his twin.

“He’d have to agree to therapy and be willing to admit he had a problem, and then he could work on making changes,” Lily answered.

“I don’t see that happening. What causes this disorder anyway?” Mack asked.

Lily shrugged. “I only had two students with those symptoms that I thought should be sent for a full evaluation. One came from an affluent family and had siblings. The other came from a poorer home and was an only child. They displayed the same traits. So all I can tell you is that you’ll have to ask someone far smarter than me what causes it.”

“Oh, well.” Mack picked up the remote. “Like you said, until he realizes he has a problem, it’s not going to get fixed, anyway.”

“That’s right,” Lily agreed.

Mack started the next episode of Lethal Weapon, and Lily watched it with brand-new insight. One of the main characters, Martin Riggs, was flawed because of his wife’s death. Mack Cooper had problems because of his brother’s narcissistic attitude. It was easy to see why Mack would relate to Riggs. Lily wanted to hug Mack, but he sure wouldn’t like that, she was certain.

When the episode ended, she yawned. “I’ve had enough for tonight. I’m going up to bed. Good night, Mack.”

“’Night to you, and thanks for listening.” He got out of his chair and rolled his neck to get the kinks out.

“Anytime,” she said on her way out the door.

Once she’d had a bath and was dressed for bed, she got out the journal again. She read the entry about Henry’s attitude when he had come home from the war. “He was like Adam,” she whispered. “He felt entitled and special.”

She turned the page to reread the entry dated December 1865: