Back in Service. Isabel Sharpe

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СКАЧАТЬ Cartwrights don’t have any whining rights. That I’m being arrogant and overprotective looking for professional help for a guy who isn’t suffering from anything more than wounded pride. That he should get over himself and deal.”

      “Uh...” Darn. That was exactly what she’d been thinking. Except the last part. Telling a depressed person to get over it was not generally effective.

      “If it was one of my other brothers or my dad, I’d agree with you. There’s no way I’d ask you to try to help one of them. But Jameson is different.” Her voice softened. “He’s always struggled to fit in. I think life would have been easier for both of us if we’d been born into a different family.”

      Kendra blinked in astonishment. She didn’t know Matty at all, but Jameson? Struggling? He’d always seemed to fit the Cartwright mold to perfection—arrogant, entitled, self-centered...should she go on? “Huh.”

      “I know, you don’t believe me. But he’s different from the other guys in the family. And that’s why this is hitting him so hard. It’s worse than just losing out on his planned future. It’s like the final proof that he can’t cut it. You know? I don’t see it that way, and Mom...who knows...but you can bet Dad and my brothers do.”

      Kendra stood in Lena’s living room, phone pressed to her ear, having a very hard time processing this information, given that it contradicted everything she’d ever thought about Jameson.

      “I just know that I can’t help him right now, and while traditional doctors and therapists might, he won’t go, and he really, really needs help.”

      “What makes you think he’d let me help him?”

      “He...knows you.”

      Kendra gave an incredulous laugh. He knew her? He knew how to typecast her, he knew which buttons to push and he knew how to make her feel loathed and worthless. Thank God her parents had been psychologists and had taken time and care helping her through the pitfalls of childhood with her self-esteem intact. “Not very well. In any case, I’m pretty booked...”

      “Please, Kendra. I’ll beg if you want me to. You’re the first ray of hope I’ve had in weeks.” Matty sounded as if she was about to burst into tears. “I haven’t slept all night in so long I forget what it’s like.”

      Oh, geez. Kendra closed her eyes, torn between sympathy for Matty and her instinct telling her she wanted less than nothing to do with men like the Cartwrights ever again.

      “Just call him, Kendra. Talk to him. If you think I’m overreacting or it doesn’t feel right, then fine, you don’t have to take him on. We’ll go another route. I just don’t know what that would be at this point.”

      Kendra forced herself into motion, letting herself out of Lena’s house. Committing to one call was an easy out, not really saying yes or no, which Matty undoubtedly knew and was exploiting. She was a Cartwright, after all.

      Maybe Jameson had grown up some. Maybe Kendra had misjudged him all along, typecasting him as he had her. Hard to imagine, but Matty would know her brother better than Kendra did.

      “I’ll talk to him.” She climbed into the Lexus, started back down the hill toward her house.

      “Thank you. Thank you so much.” Matty’s relief was humble and real, no triumph in her tone. “He’s house-sitting at a friend’s condo. I’ll give you the address and his cell. Thank you so much.”

      “Sure.” Kendra sighed, feeling both noble and trapped. Lena would have a fit when she told her.

      “Um. There is just one more thing.”

      Uh-oh. “What’s that?”

      “I’d rather you didn’t tell Jameson that I’m behind this. Even though he and I are close, he’s...a little sensitive when it comes to family right now.”

      “Meaning he wants all of you out of his face even if you’re trying to help.”

      “That would be it exactly.”

      Pretty classic depression symptom. Though if Matty’s description of Jameson as the outcast was correct, he could also be protecting himself from the rest of the family’s judgment.

      Damn. This was almost intriguing. “Okay. I won’t mention you. But I’m not sure he’ll buy that six years after our graduation I suddenly want to catch up.”

      “Tell him you’re part of a new program the Air Force is trying out for soldiers on medical leave. Or that his commanding officer or surgeon heard of you through some doctor you work with here. Something that leaves him no choice.”

      Clearly Matty had thought this through. “So I should lie while I try to gain his trust?”

      “Oof.” Matty whistled silently. “Do you have to put it that way?”

      “Can’t you get your commander or some general to write a fake letter?”

      “Not me.” Matty laughed lightly. “I’m not in the Air Force. I’m an actress.”

      Kendra brought her car to an abrupt halt at an intersection before she realized there was no stop sign; luckily there was no one behind her. “You’re an actress.”

      “Between jobs I sell real estate, but right now I’m in a musical called Backspace at the Pasadena Playhouse. I have a small part, but it’s a job.” The pride in her voice was unmistakable.

      “It’s an impressive job.” Well, how about that. Her parents must have nearly dropped dead. A canker on the Cartwright family tree! And now Jameson injured and out of his training program? A regular crumbling dynasty. “I’ll come up with something.”

      “Thank you, Kendra. Please stay in touch. And send the bill to me. How much do you charge, by the way?”

      Kendra told her.

      “What? You’re kidding.”

      Kendra was used to surprise and had the explanation for her bargain-basement rates ready. “I want my services available to as many people as possible. I’m not in this to get rich. I like working with people, and I don’t want to be limited by fees so high that my clients are thinking every second has to count triple for me to be worth their while.”

      Happily, money was no problem. Great-Grandpa Lonergan had made a fortune in banking in the early twentieth century, and Kendra’s ever-cautious parents had had plenty of life insurance on top of that. She would never have to work, though she knew she’d always choose to.

      “How about I throw in two tickets to my show?”

      “You’re on.” Kendra pulled into her driveway on Via Rincon and parked outside the garage, gazing affectionately at the white stucco house with the red-tile roof her grandparents had built into the side of the hill.

      “You know, what you do is really remarkable.”

      “Thanks.” Kendra shrugged. It didn’t feel remarkable. It was her business, and like any business it could be frustrating, boring, annoying, but overall more deeply satisfying than anything she could imagine doing. For many clients who’d experienced СКАЧАТЬ