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!”

“Grandma, look,” Harper whispered softly as she stood back up. “Somebody left a real treasure here.”

In her small palm sat a heavy gold ring. The diamond on top was bigger than anything I’d ever seen outside a luxury jewelry store window. My heart started pounding against my ribs as I looked around the empty aisle.

For one shameful second, a dark thought crossed my mind about how nobody saw us and I could just slip it in my purse. I thought about the leaking roof, the orange juice, and the blood pressure pills I’d been cutting in half to make them last. That single ring could pay for all of our problems for a long time.

“Grandma?” Harper asked, looking up at me with big innocent eyes. “Do you think somebody’s crying right now because they lost it?”

My face instantly went hot with shame at my own dark thoughts.