Sometimes the past stays in the past. And sometimes it comes knocking 20 years later.

Sylvia opened the case to her Ricci Argentieri flatware set. She picked up one of the salad forks and admired its 18/10 stainless steel craftsmanship, and the 10 percent nickel that provided a silver-like luster without the need for polishing.

She and Rod had received the flatware as a wedding gift, just as her mother and father had, as well as her grandmother and grandfather, and her great-grandmother and great-grandfather before them. It was the kind of flatware you passed down from one generation to the next, four times in this case. The kind you only bring out at holidays and special occasions when you want to add a touch of elegance to your dining table.

Sylvia replaced the fork and snapped the lid shut on the 20-piece service. She just couldn't. It was unthinkable. There had to be something else. She put the case back in the bottom drawer of the sideboard, beneath her good linen tablecloth and napkins, and walked away.

She sat on the balcony for hours, reflecting on the past mistakes that had brought her to this point. But would she really have done anything differently? It wasn't an easy question. She had done what she needed to do. Then. Now. Always.

Without further hesitation, she went to the sideboard and retrieved the flatware. The next thing she knew, she was standing in pawn shop in a seedy part of town. She couldn't believe it had come to this. But she had no other choice. After all these years, her past transgressions had finally caught up with her.

"Sell or pawn?" said the burly man behind the counter.

"Pawn," said Sylvia. "I'm coming back for those."

If it's the last thing I do, she thought.

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