PART 1

My granddaughter found a diamond ring at Target, and I returned it to its owner.

The next morning, a stranger knocked on my door and said he’d been searching for me for years.

I wanted to know why, and I wasn’t ready for the answer.

I stood on my porch looking with contempt at this stubborn rich man, even though just a few days ago I hadn’t known he existed.

“You can choke on that ring, but you’ll never see Harper,” I told him through the open door.

Every Friday, Harper and I go to Target.

We always pick up milk, bread, and whatever happens to be on sale.

I’m seventy years old, and Harper is my seven-year-old granddaughter whom I’m raising completely alone.

Money is tight for us every single month.

Some months I literally have to choose between my prescriptions and buying her new shoes.

To make matters worse, there’s a tin pot catching drips under the leak in my kitchen ceiling.

That Friday, I stood in the juice aisle holding a carton of orange juice that cost six dollars.

Harper loves orange juice, so I placed it gently into the cart, but then I hesitated and took it back out.

“Grandma, it’s okay,” Harper said quietly as she watched me.

“We can just get the water kind instead.”

She’s only seven years old, and she really shouldn’t know how to say things like that.

Money is tight, and it breaks my heart every time she notices.