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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

“There’s nothing brave about accepting the inevitable.” Nothing brave about crying for a man a full three years after he’s gone.

We concluded our conversation, and just as we were about to hang up, Tom said my name once more.

“Callie,” he nearly whispered. I pressed the phone to my ear, wondering what would come next. For a brief moment, I wanted to hear him say that when this case was over, we would plan a get-together of our own, that we would arrange the perfect place and time. I hesitated, knowing that the thought of that filled me with an odd mix of excitement and fear.

“I just wanted to say,” he continued, “that in spite of everything else, you are even more beautiful in person than you are in pictures.”

He disconnected the call then, and I sat with the phone in my hand for a long time, thinking about him, thinking about what we could, someday, be to each other. Outside, I could hear the soft patter of rain against the window. Half smiling, I turned over and closed my eyes. I was asleep in an instant, and slept through the night without stirring, my dreams for once the easy, pleasant dreams of the unencumbered.

Thirty-Seven

Thirty-Seven

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I awoke feeling surprisingly refreshed. I still ached, of course, from my big fall the day before, but my head was clear and I no longer felt tired. Mostly, I was full of unjustified optimism, ready to head out and wrap this matter up so I could go home.

Once I was dressed and ready to leave, I grabbed my keys and my briefcase and headed down the stairs and out the back door, grateful when I didn’t run into anyone on the way. It was still early; I would stop for coffee and a bagel at the convenience store on the corner. I knew that would certainly be simpler and quicker than making conversation in the kitchen with Nick or Angelina.

It was a gorgeous morning, already warmer than the past few days. I was headed straight for my car when I noticed something odd about the pool. I hesitated, then took a step closer.

There were dozens of small sheets of paper floating in the water. Most were drifting here and there, but some of them had clumped into a wad in the deep end, around the drain, and a few had sunk to the bottom.

I took off a shoe and stepped down onto the first step, grabbing for the closest piece of paper I could reach. I knew what it was almost before I got a good look at it. It was onionskin paper, the kind of stationery Derek used to write to Sidra years ago when he was in seminary.