Don't Take Any Wooden Nickels PDF
Preview Don't Take Any Wooden Nickels
DON’T TAKE ANY WOODEN NICKELS MINDY STARNS CLARK HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS EUGENE, OREGON All Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible: New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by the International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. The “NIV” and “New International Version” trademarks are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by International Bible Society. Cover by Dugan Design Group, Bloomington, Minnesota Cover illustration © Gregor Buir Fotolia; Cover photo © iStockphoto filo This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locales, is entirely coincidental. DON’T TAKE ANY WOODEN NICKELS Copyright © 2003 by Mindy Starns Clark Published 2011 by Harvest House Publishers Eugene, Oregon 97402 www.harvesthousepublishers.com ISBN 978-0-7369-2957-8 The Library of Congress has cataloged the edition as follows: Clark, Mindy Starns. Don’t take any wooden nickels / Mindy Starns Clark. p. cm. — (The million dollar mysteries; 2) ISBN 978-0-7369-0993-8 (pbk.) 1. Chesapeake Bay Region (Md. and Va.)—Fiction. 2. Women philanthropists—Fiction. I. Title. PS3603.L366 D66 2003 813'.54—dc21 2002010021 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher. Printed in the United States of America 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 / LB-KB / 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 For my daughter Emily…Thank you for being exactly who you are: sweet, talented, funny, giving, beautiful, and filled with a godly spirit that thrills my heart. I love you! Contents Acknowledgments One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty-One Twenty-Two Twenty-Three Twenty-Four Twenty-Five Twenty-Six Twenty-Seven Twenty-Eight Twenty-Nine Thirty Thirty-One Thirty-Two Thirty-Three Thirty-Four Thirty-Five Thirty-Six Thirty-Seven Thirty-Eight Thirty-Nine Forty Forty-One Forty-Two Forty-Three Forty-Four Forty-Five Forty-Six Forty-Seven Forty-Eight Forty-Nine Fifty About the Author Acknowledgments Many, many special thanks: To my husband, John Clark, J.D., C.P.A., for your invaluable assistance with legal and financial questions, for incredible writing and editing help, and for all of the things you do that free me to close the door to the office and simply write. As always, without you, this book would not exist! To Kay Justus, for more than twenty years of friendship and encouragement, countless plotting ideas and suggestions, and never-ending enthusiasm. To my editor, Kim Moore of Harvest House Publishers, for making the entire editing and publishing process such a joy. To Ken Weber, for designing my website, and to Shari Weber, for your wonderful research assistance. To my father, Robert M. Starns, M.D., for brilliant medical information. To readers Jackie Starns, Sheila Davison, Mary Davison, Theresa Verna, and Kim Furando. To all of those who filled in the gaps of my knowledge: Hitomi Kimura, Ikuko Nagano, David and Jennifer Clark, Ann and Don Blais, David Starns, Lauren Clark, Jonathan King, Sue and Bob Butler, David Granquist, Sgt. Bruce R. Talbot, Public Affairs Officer Niki Edwards, and so many others I could fill this book with your names. Thank you! To my fellow authors Debra White Smith, Patricia Sprinkle, and Elena Santangelo, for advice and support. To Jim and June Ann Murphy, for your hospitality and assistance in the crucial eleventh hour. To my COS Bible Study group, for biblical wisdom, fellowship, and fervent prayers when my deadlines are looming. God bless you all! Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth…But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. MATTHEW 6:19-21 One I heard the gunshots from a distance, sharp and loud in the cool November air. A few seconds later there were more gunshots, then more, then all was silent. Quickening my pace, I rounded the corner and hurried through two large stone arches into the Glenn Oaks Cemetery, a beautiful, shady old graveyard on the outskirts of Nashville, Tennessee. I had timed this just right, since I didn’t really want to get there until the funeral was finished. Now that the honor guard had fired three volleys, I knew it was almost over. I slowed down a little, found the gravesite, and stopped a respectful distance away. The deceased had been a naval chief petty officer in his youth, and his family had wanted him to have a full honor guard at his burial. Now I could see that nearly half of the 20 or so people in attendance were wearing full military dress uniforms. I watched as two young soldiers carefully folded the flag that had been draped over the coffin, and then they presented it to the widow. As they did so, an older soldier lifted a bugle to his lips and lightly sounded out the notes for “Taps.” The simple tune, always so mournful, sounded especially sad in the middle of this Tennessee graveyard. Ordinarily, I think, the whole scene would’ve brought me to tears. Even though I didn’t personally know the deceased or his family, I had been widowed myself only three years before, and it still didn’t take much to open those wounds. Today, however, I was distracted by other matters. I had an exciting event of my own coming up in just a few hours, thoughts of which were keeping my mind from becoming too absorbed with what was unfolding before me. Once the service ended, I watched as the tiny crowd dispersed. The seven soldiers I was here to see turned and walked in the opposite direction from me, somberly shouldering their rifles as they marched toward a row of cars. I tried to catch up with them, but the earth was muddy, and the heels of my Joan & David pumps sunk into the ground with the first step. Fortunately, storing away the
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