My grandpa, Arnold Finkel, was known in our town as the stingiest man alive. A few days after his funeral, my mother handed me an envelope with my name scrawled on the front in Grandpa's sharp, shaky handwriting. Inside was a note, and a card, shiny and plastic, with "$30 Gift Card" emblazoned on the front. "Why would Grandpa leave me a gift card?" I asked aloud, bewildered. It didn't seem like him at all.