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Back A Penny for Your Thoughts Save as PDF
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. A PENNY
  3. Dedication
  4. Acknowledgments
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Twenty-Four
  29. Twenty-Five
  30. Twenty-Six
  31. Twenty-Seven
  32. Twenty-Eight
  33. Twenty-Nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-One
  36. Thirty-Two
  37. Thirty-Three
  38. Thirty-Four
  39. Thirty-Five
  40. Thirty-Six
  41. Thirty-Seven
  42. Thirty-Eight
  43. Thirty-Nine
  44. Forty
  45. Forty-One
  46. Forty-Two
  47. Forty-Three
  48. Forty-Four
  49. Forty-Five
  50. Forty-Six
  51. Forty-Seven
  52. Forty-Eight
  53. Forty-Nine
  54. Fifty
  55. Fifty-One
  56. Fifty-Two
  57. Fifty-Three
  58. Fifty-Four
  59. A Sample Chapter of Don’t Take Any Wooden Nickels
  60. About the Author
  61. Other Books by Mindy Starns Clark
  62. About the Publisher

This person, whoever it was, had come here for me. I wondered if it was the same guy who had been following me earlier in the city. Heart pounding, I scanned Judith’s room, desperately trying to think of a good hiding place. If her closet was as big as Derek’s, I decided, then that would probably be my best choice.

Silently, I ran to the closet and stepped inside, glad to see that both sides were filled to overflowing with clothes. Pushing my way between two coats, I climbed up on a small shelf about six inches high and flattened myself against the back wall, pushing the coats back into place in front of me. My face just peeked over the top of the hangers, so I crouched down, quietly removed a jacket from a hanger, and draped it over my head, covering everything but my eyes.

I stayed there a long time, listening, wishing I had thought to arm myself with something before I hid, some sort of blunt instrument. There was a rack of shoes to my left, and I snaked my arm out through the clothes and ran my hand along the shelf, feeling among the shoes for the highest, sharpest pair of heels I could find. Near the back of the shelf, my fingers closed over something else, something that felt like a handle. I pulled it out, surprised to find myself holding onto a wide paintbrush. I paused, confused, then shoved it into my pocket and reached out again, this time grabbing a satin stiletto-heeled pump. I held the shoe close to my chest, knowing it wouldn’t offer much defense but feeling it was better than nothing.

I could hear noises again, moving closer, and I knew that the person was in Judith’s living room and then her bedroom. I poised myself for action. If he did catch sight of me in the closet, my best move would be to spring out at him, immobilizing him with a heel to the face before running away.

Finally, a shadow fell across the doorway to the closet.

“Callie?” I heard. “Ms. Webber?”

It sounded like the voice of Nick, the chef. I hesitated, trying to decide what to do. He was supposed to be at the wake; what was he doing here? Did he mean me harm?

He stepped closer, and I knew I had a decision to make. Should I reveal myself to him, or keep hiding? I was certain only of one thing: If he did indeed mean me harm, there was no way I would ever gain the upper hand in such a confined space. He was just too physically overpowering.