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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

It was another gorgeous day with the sun shimmering in every direction and the new fall colors just peeking from the trees. The cemetery wasn’t far from the funeral home, and I found it easily, turning between two large marble posts at the entrance. The place was lush and expansive with the rolling hills dotted with memorials and tombstones that ranged from the incredibly ornamental to the tastefully simple and everywhere in between. It looked as if Wendell’s wasn’t the only funeral here today; there were several funeral awnings set up throughout the cemetery. Wendell’s, however, was the only one teeming with activity at this time. A funeral home van and a florist’s truck were there, and about five men milled about the gravesite setting up chairs and bringing out flowers.

I drove past the site and continued on as the road looped around the far side of the cemetery and back again. When I was near a mausoleum, I turned my car around and pulled over to the side. I could see Wendell’s gravesite in the distance, though I was far enough away that I doubted any of them would notice me. I turned off the car and reached for Eli’s box, slicing the tape with the point of my key. Knowing him, there would be a pair of binoculars in there—just what I needed. I finished ripping the tape, flipped the lid open, and looked inside.

“God bless him,” I whispered, reaching inside and pulling out the items one by one. Eli had sent a pair of binoculars, some handcuffs, a miniature camera, and a digital voice recorder. For my protection he had also included a billy club and a can of pepper spray, but no gun. Despite my training and proficiency, Eli knew I didn’t like handling guns and hadn’t since my brother had been shot in the line of duty years ago. Michael’s accident had totally thrown me for a loop, and though he eventually recovered, I found that I was never comfortable around guns and ammunition after that. Besides, I swung a pretty mean club. For now that would have to be enough. Leave it to Eli to take care of me from a thousand miles away.

I put everything back in the box except the binoculars, which I pulled out and pressed against my eyes. They were small but very powerful, and through them I could easily observe the goings-on at the gravesite. I studied the men who were there, watching as they went about their duties without much conversation. Mostly they just went back and forth, back and forth, pulling out chairs, setting them up, going back for more chairs. I put the binoculars down and just watched them with my naked eye until about ten minutes before ten, when I saw a new car pull into the cemetery.