He Mocked the Old Egg She Bought—Then She Told Him to Open It!

My spouse laughed at me for picking up a little enameled egg at the flea market, but he had no idea the surprise that awaited him.

I must admit right away that I have an addiction to flea markets. I can’t resist the allure of perusing through the remnants of a hundred lifetimes and discovering a misplaced treasure within the thrown away debris.

I used to spend the summers in New England with my grandmother when I was eleven years old. She termed her treasures “preloved jewels,” and on weekends we would scour every flea market and street fair within a hundred miles of each other.

As a mother and grandmother, I can tell you that there’s nothing quite like the thrill of sifting through a collection of random items and finding something that feels like a hidden treasure.

My spouse finds it completely incomprehensible. Sam is a wonderful, kind, and industrious man, but he just doesn’t get my urge to locate treasure in the rubbish.

The only issue we have is that I keep bringing home “preloved jewels,” or hoarded garbage, as husband refers to them. Though I really don’t want to, I believe it would be easier for me to just give up my small interest.

Nothing makes me happier than packing up $20 in my pocket and going to a flea market on the weekends in hopes of finding a Van Goh for fifty cents. I won’t give it up, Sam, no matter how much he berates me for squandering money and collecting rubbish.

Let me tell you how this miracle happened. He hasn’t been complaining about it lately—in fact, this weekend, he begged to come along with me.

I went to a nearby town on a Saturday morning for their street festival about a month ago. My bargain-hunting instincts took me to a little exhibit where a man was selling trinkets, and I was buzzing with excitement.

A small porcelain and enamel egg, roughly the size of an actual egg, was found there among the bisque shepherdesses and porcelain cups. Although it wasn’t a really unique or attractive piece, I still wanted it.

“How much for the egg?” I questioned the man. His eyes beady as he sussed me out. I sensed him eyeing my bags and sensible clothes, wondering how much I’d be willing to spend.

“Just $25, lady, and let me tell you it’s a bargain!” exclaimed the man. I shook my head and gasped in terror because I knew how the game was played.

“$25 for a bargain-basement china egg?” To which I said, “I’ll give you $5.”

What’s garbage to one guy is treasure to another.

“FIVE DOLLARS!” The man let out a gasp in turn. For this historical fragment? For this little gem? This is French porcelain, lady.

“Right!” I thought to myself, “So if I turn it over I won’t see ‘made in China’ stamped on the bottom?”

I took advantage of the man’s hesitation, which indicated to me that he wasn’t certain. “I tell you what, I’ll take it, without touching it, for $10.”

Although the man muttered something under his breath, he accepted my ten bucks and wrapped the egg in some newspaper. I was ecstatic! Something about the egg seemed right! I looked around the fair for a while, but I wasn’t really into it. I left for home after finding my prize.

I smiled as I entered and planted a kiss on Sam. He was reading his newspaper while seated on the couch. He said, “Hey, hun. Found any trash?”

“Hi! Indeed, in actuality.” I cautiously removed the wrapped egg from my handbag and opened it.

Sam regarded it doubtfully. Is that all? Is that what you discovered?

“Yes, isn’t it pretty?” I exclaimed.

He inquired, flipping the egg over in his palms, “What’s it for?”

“I think it was a jewelry box,” responded I. “Do you see the little metal latch and the hinges?” I picked up the egg and gave it a go.

Sam responded, “I think it’s rusted shut,” and he flipped the egg over. “Look, it makes sense! Produced in Hong Kong! What was the price you paid for it?”

I grabbed the egg as I started to blush. “Ten dollars, but the man wanted twenty-five,” I said, defending myself.

Sam mockingly laughed at me. “You were taken for a ride, AGAIN!”

Tears started to well up in my eyes. “Well, I like it!” I heard something shift inside the little egg when I shook it. “There’s something inside!”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s a diamond,” sneered Sam, snatching the egg out of my fingers. With a clever turn of his strong fingers, he cracked open the egg. There was a small bundle of red silk tucked inside.

I removed the small package and gently opened it. A set of earrings was glistening among the creases in the scarlet fabric. They were so beautiful! They were fake, of course, but exquisite replicas, in my opinion.

Sam picked up one of the earrings and gave it a close inspection. Sam breathed on the transparent center stone, encircled by a halo of green gems. He gasped as he glanced at the earring.

“Jen, I believe these to be real,” he continued.

I said, “What?” “What do you mean?”

A true diamond, according to this diamond documentary I saw a long back, won’t fog up with breath. Take a look!” and once more breathed on the large, transparent stone.

I looked at it. No mist. I shook my head, then glanced at Sam. “Look at those stones’ size, hun. Millions would be theirs! Simply said, they are excellent impersonators.”

Sam, though, was thrilled. “Let’s go to that jeweler at the mall, ask him to appraise them.”

“Sam, he’ll charge us for that,” I informed him.

Sam didn’t seem to mind, though, so we drove to the mall and anxiously waited for the man to try the earings and murmur under them. He said, “These are diamonds, indeed, along with eighteen carats of white gold.

I think these are emeralds. Everything is old cut. The workmanship and design of these earrings suggest that they are most likely Art Deco. Approximately three hundred stones are likely in question, though that number could rise based on the quality of the stones.”

Sam questioned, “Three hundred dollars?”

The jeweler said, “Three hundred thousand, minimum.” I had to grab onto Sam for stability when I felt the ground tremble beneath my feet. I had discovered a true gem!

In the end, the jeweler was in error. At auction, the earrings brought in three million dollars. As a result, we now own a beautiful little next egg in the bank, and the porcelain egg is displayed with proudly on our new home’s mantle.

Sam, on the other hand, has become a die-hard collector of antiques and goes to every flea market and antique festival with me. Though we haven’t located that Van Gogh yet, there is yet hope!

What lessons may we draw from this tale?

What’s garbage to one guy is treasure to another. Jen was certain she would discover a “preloved jewel,” and she did, quite literally.

Observe the interests of others. Jen’s love of flea markets was made fun of by Sam, but she eventually discovered a $3 million pair of earrings.

Talk about this tale with your companions. People could be motivated to help others or to share their own story as a result of it.