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Once, quite a few years ago, there was a little girl who spent most of the time with her grandparents. Her mother worked nights, and her father worked days and went to school; they were not home much. Her grandparents lived out in the country, and behind their house, as far as she could see were gardens and apple orchards and bee keeps for honey, and she loved it. But the best part was that she got to follow her grandpa everywhere, helping him work the orchard when she could, but usually just enjoying being around him; to her, he was the greatest guy on earth. The little girl’s grandpa had a big, sparkly ring, which he wore always, on the third finger of his left hand. It had four large stones in it that flashed in the sun. It was large enough for the little girl to fit two of her fingers into at once. When they sat on the porch swing at lunch, or at the day’s end, the grandfather would remove his ring and let the little girl hold it in the sunlight, watching the prisms...
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