Silver and Pearls

This story is a bit of a "where are they now," written in honor of the 30th anniversary of the series final.


From his position at the podium, Tony scanned the room of about a hundred people. He knew it was going to take every ounce of self-control to keep his voice steady and his eyes dry – which was probably a futile effort for such an emotive Italian, he acknowledged wryly to himself. Nonetheless, he took a steadying breath and spoke into the microphone.

"Thank you for that kind – and mostly fictional – introduction, Dr. Peterson." After a chuckle from the audience, Tony took another breath. "I'm no stranger to the quick passage of time, but it's still hard to believe a twenty-five-year career at this school is coming to an end already. But as I mark the beginning of another decade of life, and prepare to celebrate thirty years of marriage next week to my incomparable wife, Angela, and welcome my first great-grandchild into the world, it seems this silver anniversary is the right time to step down."

Tony looked down to the two tables in front where his family was seated. His baby Sam became a grandmother two months ago when her and Hank's oldest daughter Katie and husband Chris welcomed tiny Mathew – Matty – the first-born of yet another generation. Next to them were Sam and Hank's younger daughters Maggie and Kristy, and at the other table were Jonathan and Jesse, and their son Andrew and daughter Adeline, who at fifteen was the youngest of the five grandkids. And there at the front was the woman who held them all together, the love of Tony's life, looking just as regal and classy at seventy-two as she had at thirty-four. Angela smiled up at him, the pride in her eyes evident as their gaze locked and the rest of the world fell away – as it always did.

Refocusing on his speech, Tony took a moment to reflect before proceeding. His retirement from the Brooklyn Early College Academy was apparently a bigger deal than he realized. He'd been at the school as a history, civics, and government teacher since its first year and had taught nearly every student who had walked the halls over the past two and a half decades. When news had reached him back in 1997 that a coalition of community leaders from his old neighborhood had partnered with the school district to create a college prep middle and high school, he'd known immediately he wanted to be a part of the project. So, he'd resigned his position at a high school in New Rochelle and joined the fledgling faculty at BECA. The school was now one of the most successful public high schools in Brooklyn, and Tony had been its star teacher since day one.

Pulling himself back to the moment, he continued, "As I thought about what I wanted to say tonight, I realized that exactly thirty years ago, I was giving another speech that set me on the course to this moment, right now. I hope you'll indulge me as I share what that night meant to me."

In a sea of intrigued faces, Tony's eyes found Angela's once more as he returned the knowing smile she sent him. Today was a date she knew well.

"As most of you know by now, I started off as a professional baseball player back in the 70s with the St. Louis Cardinals. Some tough breaks, and the loss of my first wife, Marie, left me pretty down and out until a chance meeting with my future mother-in-law—" Tony gestured to the seat next to Angela, where Mona sat with all the brassy poise every woman over ninety should possess. "—ushered in some of the best and most influential years of my life. If I hadn't been humble enough to consider a job as a housekeeper, I never would have given my daughter the life she deserved, or gone on to college and grad school, or met the woman who would become my heart and soul.

"But thirty years ago tonight, I stood in front of a crowd of virtual strangers, with the exception of my daughter Samantha, and decided that being a teacher, even an associate professor, wasn't worth spending my life away from those I loved most in the world. We didn't have social media in 1992, so there were no Facebook updates or Instagram photos to keep me in the loop about events at home. I know it sounds prehistoric now, but I didn't even have a cell phone, so if someone called me, and I wasn't home, we didn't get to talk."

To the younger members of the audience who had never lived in a world without cell phones and social media, Tony might as well have been describing life before electricity. But it was a world he remembered well, given how hard it had been to live a thousand miles away from his family.

"For most of a year, I tried to build a life in Iowa while still keeping a foot back home in Connecticut. Angela took a leave of absence and joined me for a while, but all that did was take both of us away from the life we'd built here. My joy was in the novelty of being somewhere new for a while, which I discovered when I was faced with the reality of making Branford my permeant home. And the fact is, I couldn't do it."

Tony wiped his eyes and thought back to that night when he'd boarded a plane from Iowa to Connecticut and showed up on Angela's doorstep. He'd told her the only thing he would ever resent was being without her, and he'd known every day since that he'd made the right decision.

"Thirty years ago, I looked out at a similar crowd and realized the only person in the room I cared about, my daughter, would be leaving the next day. Worse, the rest of my family, and the woman I'd spent eight years trying to feel worthy enough to love, weren't even there. I knew in that moment, my place – my life – wasn't going to be at Wells Junior College. I concluded that speech by tendering my resignation and praying I wasn't too late to make things right back home. And when I got there, Angela opened the front door, and I looked in her eyes for the first time in weeks, knowing nothing else in the world mattered.

"I made a choice that night that led Angela and me to the alter. Then I went to graduate school, got a teaching position in New Rochelle for three years, and finally landed here, in a position that's allowed me to spend the last twenty-five years helping some of the best kids in New York City reach their potential."

"Tonight, Dr. Peterson suggested I had something to do with this school's success over the years, but I disagree. This school is successful because of the students who went, and go, here. They put in the work, and cared enough to fight for the future they deserved. It wasn't me who got accepted to top universities, or won full-ride scholarships. They did. Yes, I encouraged, and cajoled, and occasionally threatened, but I couldn't make them care if they didn't want to. This school will continue to turn out some of Brooklyn's best graduates for decades to come. I was honored to be a part of its history for a little while, but the legacy of Brooklyn Early College Academy belongs to the community that will keep it going."

Tony paused before continuing with his last thoughts. He knew he was ready to retire and spend more time with his family. Six months ago, when Angela had stepped down as president and CEO of the agency she'd founded in 1986, and passed the mantle onto Sam, who'd been working there since she'd returned to work full-time after her youngest was in pre-school, Tony knew it was time for him to step down as well. Most of their friends were retired, but Tony and Angela still possessed so much energy and ambition that working never felt like a burden. They weren't sure what would come next for them, but it probably involved more than spending their days playing pickleball at the country club – although Tony couldn't deny he loved a good game of pickleball … or racquetball, golf, or tennis. But there was more he wanted to do, and he was looking forward to deciding with Angela what that might be.

With that thought, he took one more deep breath and concluded his speech. "I was very lucky to find a career I loved a little later in life than most people. I like to think I proved to the students here that there is no single, right path through life. If you had told me when I was twenty that I'd retire at seventy as a high school teacher, I'd have laughed for days. I spent more time in the office, getting lectured by the principal than in class, and the only reason I stayed in school was to play baseball. But life had a lot of different plans for me, and I want to leave the students here with some assurance that they don't need to have it all figured out at eighteen. Take your time, and enjoy the ride. I certainly have."

The applause reverberated through the banquet hall as Tony stepped away from the podium and made his way back to his family. Angela wrapped her arms tightly around him and whispered, "I love you, too," before he was engulfed by everyone else. Through the cacophony of well wishes, he kept his wife by his side as he drew his kids into a hug, smiling through tears as Sam said how proud she was of him and Jonathan – now Dr. Jonathan Bower, associate professor of economics at NYU – admitted, "You were always my inspiration, both in the classroom and out."

It took Tony and Angela another two hours to greet and talk to everyone at the banquet, from former students – including more than few Ivy League graduates – to colleagues, community leaders, and dear friends. The pièce de résistance, though, was the surprise unveiling of plaque to mark the henceforth named Micelli Auditorium. Tony's name would always be associated with the school he helped establish.


It was nearly midnight when Angela climbed into bed beside Tony and leaned over to deliver a gentle kiss. "Happy retirement," she said softly. Her emerald dress from the banquet was draped over the chair by the fireplace, after having been swapped for one of the satin nightgowns she still preferred for bed. Her face was scrubbed clean, and her hair was brushed out, all of which explained why Tony was routinely in bed a good twenty minutes before she joined him – but the nightly rituals were also the reason she looked a good fifteen years younger than her age. Her skin was soft and healthy, and she still felt confident keeping her hair long and blond, if perhaps a few shades closer to white than it had been years ago.

"What a night," Tony replied, obviously exhausted from all of the activity and emotions of the evening.

"Sure was," she agreed, then added, "but also entirely deserved. You had a remarkable career, Tony."

He glanced over at her and smiled, "Says the woman who had to commission a second trophy case for all of her Maddies, Addies, Clios, and AAF awards."

She blushed, and snuggled in closer to him. "Yeah, but there's something special about teaching. You taught me that. It's more of a vocation than a career, and you were absolutely born to it, even if it took you a little longer than most to get there."

"Maybe," he conceded humbly, before changing to subject. "But at least it was a good excuse to get the whole family together for something other than Christmas – even if they had to listen to me wax nostalgic most of the night."

"It was an important night," she reasoned, before acknowledging wistfully, "Both then and now," referring to the night he'd come home to her.

"One of the best nights of my life – then," he confirmed. "I don't think much about my time at Wells, but I'll never forget how I felt that night when you opened the door in your bathrobe. No job in the world was worth losing what we have together. I just can't believe it's been thirty years."

Angela nodded, trying to speak past the lump in her throat. "I'm glad you came back."

They fell into silence for a little while, each thinking about that long ago night when they finally began their life together. They were married less than two weeks later, and true to his word, Tony applied for jobs in their area, eventually returned to school, and together they built a life better than they ever dreamed of. Their children continued to grow and prosper, but never lived farther away than the city, so they got be a part of their grandchildren's lives, attending recitals and ball games, birthdays and holidays. When Mona reluctantly admitted she needed more help and fewer stairs than she could manage in her loft, they'd moved Angela's office upstairs and tapped into the plumbing to install a downstairs bath, giving Mona her own little apartment in the house. Even just thinking about assisted living facilities caused Angela's heart to break, so, they hired some extra help, and Mona stayed as active and mobile as any woman her age could expect to be.

Perhaps maintaining a now five-bedroom house for three senior citizens was a bit much, but Tony and Angela didn't care. Tony's old room from his housekeeping days had become his office years ago when he'd returned to school, and the grandkids had cycled through the other rooms over the years when they'd come to visit or stay for a week in the summer. Now, Jonathan's old room was Angela's office and crafting room, and Sam's bedroom was a guest room. So, they made use of their space and knew that someday they might need the new downstairs bedroom for themselves if they were lucky enough to enjoy good health and independence as long as Mona has. And if they ever decided to move, they knew the updated kitchen with new maple cabinets and laminate countertops, stainless appliances, and center island with seating for four would be a key selling feature. The master bath had also received a complete makeover, with a new vanity, claw-foot tub, and separate marble shower, while the main, shared bath got all new tile and fixtures. But the heart of the house was still the living room, where little had changed but the rugs and furniture. And it was still where they found themselves, more often than not, on weekday evenings and weekend afternoons, talking over their day, making plans, or just sharing a moment together as they had since the day they met.

"So, what do we do now?" Tony asked, finally breaking the silence. "Our kids are long grown and settled into their own lives. Even most of our grandkids are adults, and we just became great-grandparents. When did we get so old, Angela?" he concluded with a whine.

"Speak for yourself, old man. Mature Woman magazine says that for women, seventy is the new fifty."

"Well, for men, seventy feels more like the new ninety."

"Oh really," she inquired, leaning over to capture his mouth in a deep kiss. "You sure don't kiss like someone who feels ninety."

"Well, I have a wife who keeps me young in that department," he quipped before getting serious again. "I kind of doubt we'll be around in another thirty years – it's not impossible, but I'm not sure I'd bet on it. But either way, I just want you to know that every day of my life I've spent with you has been a gift. I've loved you in one way or another from the day Sam and I walked into this house, and I'll love you till the day they carry me out."

"Oh Tony," she exhaled, feeling her heart swell with emotion. "I can barely remember my life before you. It's like I finally came alive when you moved in here and we started this crazy family. And now, our brand new family photo downstairs has fourteen people in it representing five generations. Five! Do you know how rare that is?"

"We did pretty good, didn't we?"

"We did exceptional."

"And it's all because I couldn't resist you in that cute, pink bathrobe," he said, to lighten the mood a bit.

"Is that what did it?" she teased back. "Because, you know, I think it's still hanging in the back of my closet?"

"I know it is," he replied mischievously, "Who do you think took it out of the donation bag every time it found its way in there? But I have something else that I'd like to see you put on," he said cryptically before reaching into the nightstand drawer. "I know our anniversary technically isn't for another two weeks, but it feels right to give you this tonight."

He opened a black, velvet drawstring bag and withdrew a stunning strand of luminous white pearls interspersed with a delicate gold chain. "Rumor has it the thirtieth anniversary is pearls, so I had this made with one pearl for each year we've been married," he explained.

Angela couldn't contain a gasp of sheer adoration – for both the necklace and her husband. "Tony, it's stunning. I wish I could have worn it tonight." Taking the strand from him, she saw it was long enough to slip over her head.

"That's okay. I saved them for when we could be alone. Just felt right," he said again.

"Well, in that case …" Angela slipped out of bed and retrieved a box from the top drawer of her dresser. "Happy anniversary, Tony."

Darting his eyes between hers and the navy box with a silver bow, Tony untied the ribbon and lifted the lid to reveal a silver frame with four pearls inlaid at the corners. Behind the glass was a photo of the two of them that was obviously a number of years old. Tony hair was still a rich brown, with none of the steel he now saw in the mirror every morning, and Angela looked the way he remembered her in the years just after they got married, with long, golden-blond hair and a preference for wearing his button-down shirts. "When was this?" he asked, stumped how he'd never seen the photo before.

"I can't be a hundred percent sure. Sam found several old roles of film when she was up in her attic looking for baby stuff for Katie, just before Matty was born. She got them developed, and this was on one. But I think it might be the day after you got back from Iowa – so exactly thirty years ago."

"How do you know?" he asked, still enthralled by the photo of them with her arms around his neck, his around her torso, and eyes locked together with undisguised love.

"The rest of the photos on the roll document us moving you back home, and Sam remembered she took a photography elective that semester and used photos from our wedding for her final portfolio. Besides, as I recall, we could barely keep our hands off each other that day."

"I remember," he murmured wistfully, then added, "So, Sam took this?" His voice was both incredulous and awestruck.

"It would seem so," Angela answered. "When I saw it, I knew I wanted to frame it and give it to you. I chose the silver because you were at BECA for twenty-five years – and the pearls are for us," she added softly.

"It's perfect," he said simply. "After all these years, we can still find something new to share."

With all the familiarity and love forged by their decades together, Tony and Angela moved toward each other and let the years melt away as their kiss deepened into a declaration reminiscent of the one they'd shared in their foyer way back in 1992. On that night, they had finally found home, and thirty years later, there was still nowhere else they'd rather be.