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!”

“His personal driver?” I repeated in confusion.

“Dad discovered the diamond ring was missing from his room,” Natalie said. “He easily guessed what I was trying to do.”

“So he sent a man after you to stop you?” I asked, astonished.

“Yes, he sent Frank,” Natalie said. “He wanted Frank to bring me straight home before I could reach you.”

“So what did you do?” I pressed.

“I completely panicked,” Natalie admitted openly. “I hid the ring behind a candy display box and let Frank lead me out to his car. Then I begged Frank to let me run back inside for a moment under the excuse that I forgot my wallet.”

“And that is when Harper found the ring,” I said as the pieces finally clicked together.

“Yes,” Natalie wept softly.

“And that frantic phone call you answered?” I asked.

“It was Dad calling me,” Natalie said softly. “He was absolutely furious with me.”