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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

She agreed to come up on the first train in the morning. She put me on hold while she made her reservation, and then she came back on the line, gave me the time, and told me to meet her at the front entrance to the Thirtieth Street station.

After disconnecting, I called and reserved a small meeting room for the morning at a downtown Philadelphia hotel that my old law firm had used from time to time. That was about the most anonymous territory I could think of. I didn’t want anyone to get wind of any of this just yet.

Once I had hung up the phone, I decided that it was time to get organized—first my thoughts, then my things. Now that Wendell’s funeral was over, I felt sure the house would be quiet the rest of the day; I knew it was a good time to pause and take stock.

I clicked open the database on my laptop and pulled out all of my notes and the file Duane Perskie had given me. It was time to brainstorm, time to come up with some real theories for all that had been going on.

This was how I worked best—by digging around, unearthing facts, then sitting down and sorting out my thoughts until I came up with some plausible ideas. In the process, I would let my imagination fly, playing with every possible motive I could think up, no matter how far-fetched some of them might seem. Eli had taught me this method; he was a strong believer in the problem-solving power of the unconscious mind. “These things have been stewing around in your brain when you weren’t even aware of it,” he would say. “Now it’s time to let your ideas out.”