I’ve always like going to flea markets. There’s something exciting about delving through odds and ends, looking for that one hidden gem amid the abandoned stuff. When I was eleven years old, I spent summers in New England with my grandmother, where I developed an interest in treasure hunting. We’d go to every flea market and street festival within a hundred miles, looking for what mom fondly termed “preloved jewels.”Even as a mother and grandma, nothing thrills me more than searching through trays of odd objects, hoping to uncover a glimpse of anything worthwhile.
My husband, Sam, does not share my excitement. He’s a nice, industrious man, but he can’t comprehend my infatuation with what he refers to as “hoarder junk.” Despite this, I refuse to give up my pastime, even though it is the one thing we disagree over. There’s nothing quite like going to a flea market with a few bucks in my pocket, hoping to find a hidden gem for next to nothing.Something spectacular occurred recently that completely altered Sam’s outlook.
About a month ago, I went to a nearby town’s street fair on a Saturday morning, filled with the usual thrill. My senses took me to a little stand where a guy was selling various knickknacks. Among the porcelain cups and figurines, I saw a little enameled egg, roughly the size of a genuine egg. Although it wasn’t really appealing, I was pulled to it. Curious, I questioned the vendor for the price. He measured me up before calling it a steal at $25. Knowing how these transactions operate, I responded with $5, much to his disappointment.
After some arguing, we agreed on $10, and I went away with the egg, happy with my catch. When I arrived home, I proudly presented it to Sam, who was not impressed. He looked at the egg skeptically, noting a “Made in Hong Kong” mark on the underside. He laughed as he chided me for overpaying for another piece of crap. But as I shook the egg, I heard a rattling within. Intrigued, Sam grasped the egg and, with a forceful twist, opened it. Inside was a little package wrapped in crimson silk.
When we gently opened the gift, we discovered a gorgeous pair of earrings. Though I originally thought they were costume jewelry, Sam suspected differently. He remembers seeing a video that said true diamonds do not fog up when you breathe on them. Sure enough, the earrings’ clear center stones passed the test. Sam was confident they were authentic, so we went to a jeweler to get them assessed. At the mall, the jeweler confirmed that the earrings were diamonds set in 18-carat white gold and surrounded by emeralds.
He judged their value to be at least $300,000. We were astonished. The jeweler’s estimate turned out to be low, and the earrings finally sold at auction for $3 million. This unexpected windfall transformed our life. We now have a comfortable nest egg, and the porcelain egg is proudly displayed on the fireplace of our new house. Sam, who previously scorned my passion, is now an ardent vintage hunter himself. We continue to search flea markets and antique fairs, hoping to find our next hidden gem.
