the 42 dollar dilemma

I spent a wonderful, hot week at the shore. We went out to a lovely, small French restaurant one night where the food was excellent and the owner made a point of visiting each table for a pleasant chat. After the meal, I sought out the restroom at the end of a narrow hall, past the kitchen. As I opened the door marked Femmes, I noticed a scrunched up wad of money on the floor. It could have fallen out of my own mini phone purse which I use constantly, since I overstuff the inside slots with cash, credit cards and driver's license. I like to travel lightly, although I know big bags are en vogue, and it's not uncommon for me to slide out my phone and spew a trail of cards and dollars with it. I was startled for a moment, as I fingered the roll of 2 twenties and 2 singles. Of course, my brain is not that addled and I realized I had just stepped into the room, with purse still securely zipped, so the bills could not possibly be mine.

Or could they? "Finders keepers," I smiled and shoved the bills into my purse. On second thought I had a vague recollection of two women at a neighboring table visiting the restroom before they started to eat and speculated that it may belong to one of them. I clutched the money in the palm of my hand and when I saw the waiter, standing by the kitchen door, I took that as a sign to turn over my prize. He said he would pass it on to the owner who would discreetly canvass the customers.

Returning to my table, I felt Girl Scout proud of myself, until I related the story to my party. Did I do the right thing or was I just stupid?  
"I hope you didn't give it to our waitress!" (She was not a favorite---reserved and slightly snooty or maybe just defensive, since my brother began the meal with a few pointed comments.)
"No, the waiter." I replied. (Four sets of eyes turned on him with laserlike intensity, as if we had collective xray vision to scan his pockets for the $42.)

The poll was inconclusive: one vote for finders keepers; one non-committal; one for doing the "right thing", accompanied by a similar story involving money found floating in the ocean years earlier. I learned in that incident, the police held the money, a considerable sum, for six months and then returned it to the finder, a young friend of my nephew. You have to wonder who goes swimming with a fistful of big bills in their pocket, but this is New Jersey.

It became the question of the weekend. What would you do if you found $42 in the restroom of a restaurant? A no-brainer for most, but I feel somehow that I'm golden now. Should I head to AC, play the 4 and the 2 on the roulette wheel and let it ride? Are these my new lucky numbers? Today I followed a van that was vehicle #42--coincidence or karma? Or was the $42 my good luck that I gave away? One request: the next time we eat out, please don't quiz me when I return from the bathroom to see how much money I found this time. It gets old quickly and besides, how do you know I didn't make this all up?