My seven-year-old granddaughter found a diamond ring at the grocery store and gave it back to its rightful owner. The following morning, a stranger appeared at our front door and declared, “There’s something you need to see. And you need to see it right now!”

I locked the heavy front door and went to sit down at the worn kitchen table. The soft velvet pouch lay silently right in front of me.

What if they actually want to take her from me later? They had endless money and legal power, while I had a failing roof and a weak heart.

Harper came trotting downstairs in her socks, hugging her favorite plush stuffed rabbit tightly against her chest.

“Who was that talking at the door, Grandma?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Just somebody who went to the wrong house, honey,” I lied softly to protect her.

She sat beside me and slid a colorful crayon drawing across the wooden table. It showed four simple stick figures with two bright yellow stars drawn in the sky right above them.

“That’s you, me, and two stars,” Harper explained with a bright smile. “The stars are Mommy and Daddy watching over us.”