Grandpa’s house always smelled like freshly baked cookies and old books. Every summer, my cousins and I spent endless days there, running through the halls, listening to his stories, and solving the puzzles he loved to create for us.

Grandpa had a knack for making even the smallest things feel like grand adventures. Bella, Peter, and I would sit by the fire, our faces illuminated by the flickering flames, as Grandpa’s voice transported us to worlds far away.

One particular memory stood out. We were all huddled in his study, rain tapping against the windows, working on a puzzle Grandpa had made.

It was a tradition, a rite of passage for each summer visit. “This one is tricky,” Grandpa had said with a twinkle in his eye. “But I know you three can solve it.” We did, of course, with a lot of teamwork and Grandpa’s subtle hints.

Years later, when Grandpa passed away, it felt like a piece of our childhood had died with him. Bella, Peter, and I found ourselves in a dimly lit lawyer’s office, the air thick with the scent of leather and paper. Mr. Harris, the lawyer, cleared his throat and began to read the will.

“To my granddaughter Emma, I leave my old watch,” he said, handing me a small, worn box. Inside was Grandpa’s favorite wristwatch, its face slightly scratched but still gleaming with a familiar warmth.

Bella received Grandpa’s straight razor, and Peter his reading glasses. Simple items, but each held a world of memories.

Bella sniffed, wiping a tear. “He always knew what we loved most,” she said, her voice trembling. Peter nodded, his eyes fixed on the glasses. “He did,” he murmured.

Back in my room that night, I turned the watch over in my hands, feeling its weight, remembering Grandpa’s stories. As I ran my fingers over the back, something caught my eye – a faint engraving I hadn’t noticed before.

Squinting in the dim light, I saw the number “382” etched into the metal. My heart skipped a beat.

“Grandpa,” I whispered, a smile tugging at my lips. This had to be one of his puzzles, a final game for me to solve. I couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement. What could it mean? Why would Grandpa leave a code on his watch?

The next morning, I showed the watch to Bella and Peter. “Look at this,” I said, pointing to the engraving. Bella’s eyes widened. “Do you think it means something?” she asked. Peter leaned in closer, his brow furrowed. “It has to. Grandpa never did anything without a reason.”

We spent hours brainstorming, throwing out wild theories. “Maybe it’s a date,” Bella suggested. “Or a combination for something,” Peter added. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was important, that Grandpa was leading us to something.

As the day turned into night, we grew more frustrated. “What if we never figure it out?” Bella sighed, flopping onto the couch. Peter shook his head. “We can’t give up. Grandpa wouldn’t want us to.”

Lying in bed that night, I stared at the ceiling, with “382” swirling in my mind. What could it mean? I remembered how Grandpa always said that the simplest puzzles were often the hardest to solve. I knew this was just the beginning, a clue that would lead to something bigger.

“Hang in there, Grandpa,” I whispered. “We’ll figure this out.” With that, I closed my eyes, determined to unlock the mystery Grandpa had left behind. The next day, we would start fresh, our minds sharp and ready. Grandpa’s final puzzle was waiting, and we were ready to solve it.

***

The next morning, I found myself back at Mr. Harris’s office, the place now feeling more mysterious than ever. The lawyer greeted me with a knowing smile. “Emma, what brings you back so soon?”

I handed him the watch, pointing at the engraving. “I found this,” I said. “Does it mean something?”

Mr. Harris leaned in, peering at the numbers through his glasses. “Ah, yes,” he said, nodding slowly. “Your grandfather mentioned there might be a final puzzle. Have Bella and Peter checked their items?”

My heart skipped a beat. “You mean there are more codes?”

Mr. Harris nodded again. “Yes, each of you has a piece. Your grandfather was always thorough. This is his last game, it would seem.”

I called Bella and Peter, asking them to come over to the lawyer’s office. When they arrived, I could see the curiosity mirrored in their eyes. Bella frowned, glancing at Peter. “Do you really think these numbers mean anything?”

Peter nodded, his brow furrowed. “They have to. Grandpa never did anything without a reason.”

I held up the watch. “We’ve got ‘382’ here, ‘472’ on Peter’s glasses, and ‘629’ on Bella’s razor. It can’t be a coincidence.”

Bella crossed her arms, skeptical. “But how do we know what to do with them? What if we’re just wasting our time?”

Peter shook his head. “Grandpa wouldn’t make us chase something pointless. There’s got to be a purpose behind this.”

We debated for a few more minutes, our excitement and apprehension growing as we realized we were on the verge of uncovering something significant.

Mr. Harris cleared his throat. “Your grandfather left instructions. The codes lead to a safe deposit box at the bank. The first to solve it can choose to share the contents or keep them. Your choice will determine the final outcome.”

The room grew tense. “What?” Bella exclaimed. “We have to compete?”

Peter frowned. “Grandpa wouldn’t make us fight over this, would he?”

I looked at them both, my heart heavy. “No. Grandpa taught us better than that. If I solve it first, I’ll share everything with both of you. That’s what he would want.” Bella and Peter exchanged a look but didn’t respond.

The next morning, I headed to the bank, anticipation and tension simmering just below the surface. I was surprised to find Bella and Peter already there with Mr. Harris.

They held their items with the codes, looking determined. Mr. Harris stepped forward. “Well done so far,” he said calmly.

Mr. Harris then pulled out a sealed envelope from his briefcase. “But before we go any further, however, I have a letter from your grandfather to read to you,” he said, opening it carefully. Clearing his throat, he began to read.

“To my dear grandchildren,” it began. “This is my final lesson. The real treasure is not material wealth but the values we hold dear. The one who chose to share this inheritance proves they understand the true meaning of family and integrity.”

With the letter read, we moved to the vault, the cold metal door looming before us. “I think if we combine all three numbers, we’ll find that is the keycode to the safe deposit box,” I suggested, my voice steady despite the nerves.

Bella and Peter exchanged glances, then nodded. “Let’s try it,” Peter said.

Mr. Harris placed a hand on my shoulder. “Emma, your grandfather’s legacy now belongs to you. You’ve proven you understand his true lesson.”

I carefully entered the combined number, “382472629,” into the keypad. We held our breath as the vault made a series of clicks, then slowly swung open. Inside, the sight took our breath away.

There were shelves lined with exquisite heirlooms, shimmering jewelry, stacks of old coins, and paintings of remarkable beauty. Each piece seemed to tell a story of its own, a fragment of our family’s history preserved through generations.

Bella and Peter stared at the treasure, their faces a mix of awe and crushing regret. Bella’s voice trembled as she spoke, “We didn’t realize… we should have shared.”

Peter nodded, looking down. “We were so focused on winning, we forgot what really mattered.”

The weight of the inheritance was heavy, but it wasn’t the valuables that mattered most. It was the lesson Grandpa had imparted, the understanding of family and the importance of sharing.

I hoped that Bella and Peter would come to realize this, too, and that our bond would eventually grow stronger from this experience. They walked away empty-handed because they had stuck to their selfish decisions, and I knew they would have to learn their lesson in time to come.

As I held the watch, I whispered, “Thank you, Grandpa. For everything.”