Maybe even putting a little money aside for emergencies.

For one terrible second, I considered slipping the ring into my purse.

Then Ellie looked up at me.

“Grandma, do you think the lady who lost this is crying?”

I swallowed.

“What makes you think it belongs to a lady?”

“Because it’s beautiful,” she answered. “And if I lost something that pretty, I’d be really sad.”

Her innocent words brought me back to my senses.

I remembered something my own mother used to tell me.

*Being poor doesn’t give us permission to take what belongs to someone else.*

I gently closed Ellie’s fingers around the ring.

“Then we’d better find its owner.”

She nodded enthusiastically.

We started walking toward customer service.

Before we reached the counter, a woman hurried through the front entrance.

She appeared to be in her forties.

Her face was pale, her mascara was smeared, and she looked as though she’d been crying for hours.