“I’ll take it,” I said.
Getting it home was an adventure. The store helped me load it into the back of my car with the seats folded down. It barely fit, and the kids had to squeeze into whatever space remained.
“I don’t have a working seat belt back here,” Milo complained.
“Then sit very still and think safe thoughts,” I told him.
Nora, who’d somehow ended up with the only functional seat belt, smiled sweetly. “You’re so strong, Dad. I bet you can carry it into the house all by yourself.”
I recognized flattery when I heard it. “I’m so old, Nora. And compliments won’t get you out of helping. Grab that side.”
Together—with the kids “helping” in ways that were more moral support than actual assistance—we wrestled the machine into the house and into the laundry room.
I hooked up the water lines, plugged it in, and stood back.
“Test run first,” I announced. “Empty load. If it explodes, we run.”
“That’s terrifying,” Milo said matter-of-factly.
“Welcome to adulthood,” I replied.
I closed the lid, set it to a basic wash cycle, and pressed start.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then water rushed into the drum with a reassuring sound. The machine hummed. The drum began to turn.
“So far, so good,” I muttered.
The kids crowded around, watching as if it were the most fascinating thing they’d ever seen.
Then I heard it.
A sharp, metallic clink.
“Back up,” I told the kids, my hand raised.
The drum made another rotation. Another clink, this time accompanied by a flash of light as something inside caught the overhead bulb.
“It’s the big one!” Milo yelled dramatically, and all three kids bolted from the laundry room to peek in safely from behind the doorframe.
I hit pause on the machine, grinning despite myself. “Easy there, guys. I don’t think it’s going to explode.”
I waited for the water to drain properly, then reached into the drum, feeling around carefully
My fingers hit something small and smooth, wedged near the edge where the drum met the housing.
I pinched it carefully and pulled it out.
It was a ring.
Gold band, traditional style, with a single diamond set in the center. The metal was worn smooth where it would sit on a finger—worn from years, maybe decades, of daily wear.
“Treasure!” Nora whispered, creeping back into the room now that the danger had passed.
“It’s so pretty,” Hazel added, her eyes wide.
Milo leaned in close, squinting at it. “Is it real? Like, real real?”
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