Year in Palm Beach Read Online Free PDF

resembling a hardware, houseware, or office supply store anywhere on the island.”
    Pam laughs. “This is Palm Beach. People need Ferragamo and Armani, not light bulbs and screwdrivers.” After consulting her iPhone, she reports, “All the necessities of life are available over the bridge, strung out along Okeechobee Boulevard. Office Depot, Lowe’s, Bed Bath & Beyond, Staples, Target, Restoration Hardware, and Pottery Barn.”
    I get it. Real stuff is on the mainland. The stores in West Palm have everything a person might need. The stores in Palm Beach have nothing a person might need, but everything they might possibly want.
    Sunday, September 6
    It’s time to find a grocery store. We have been existing quite well on grapefruit juice from Scotti’s for breakfast, and salads and sandwiches from Sandwiches by the Sea for lunch, and just wandering out for dinner. So far we have walked to cocktails or dinner at Taboo, Bice, The Chesterfield, Renato’s, Trevini, Amici, and Café Boulud.
    The evenings have been wonderful, but I actually miss cooking. It is time to start normal life here. It dawns on me I have no idea where the grocery store might be or even if there is one on the island.
    â€œPam, do you know if Palm Beach even has a grocery store?” I say.
    â€œThere must be one. I’ll Google ‘Palm Beach groceries’ on my cell,” she says. “Looks like there’s a Publix Super Market about a mile north on the island.”
    I must admit that Pam’s iPhone comes in handy from time to time, but I really hate cell phones. Or maybe just the way some people use them. I don’t have one and don’t want one. My daughter Samantha assures me that this fact alone makes me a weird old man, but she helpfully points out the list does not stop there.
    I drive us to Publix, pull the car into the parking lot, and am greeted by a valet parker. Valet parking at the local grocery store. Welcome to Palm Beach. We skip the valet, park and go in, load up, and then head home.
    Tonight, with cupboards, freezer, and icebox stocked, we stay home and have our first cookout. It is a balmy night, a sip and dip night. Pam marinates a flank steak, I shuck a few ears of white corn and toss a salad together, and then the two of us head out for a cocktail in the pool. I put the iPod in its dock and decide Don McLean should join us.
    Having just confessed to hating cell phones, I must now confess to loving my iPod. I’ve got thousands of songs to choose from, literally hundreds of artists, and dozens of playlists. Making music a part of our life is very easy with the iPod. I am not a total dinosaur.
    We wallow in the peace and privacy of the (leaking) pool. I start the coals and get back in the pool. Eventually, Pam goes into the kitchen and brings out the rest of the food. I put the steak and corn on the grill and then start a wood fire in our fire pit. “Are those birds watching us?” I say
    â€œThe ones on the guest cottage?” Pam says. “I think they’re doves.”
    â€œWhatever they are, they’ve been sitting there watching us for quite a while.”
    â€œMaybe they want to meet Blanco and the Duck,” Pam says.
    After dinner, Pam and I walk over to the beach. There is no one else around. Walking back home, for maybe the first time, I feel like we really live here.
    Monday, September 7
    Today it is pouring rain, so we work around the house, thinking Benjamin will be returning our call from last Saturday. Pam has discovered the clothes dryer in the little guest cottage is not vented. When the dryer is on, the hot exhaust just fills the room. Even with the air conditioner on, the temperature is about 100 degrees in there. We’ve also discovered the disposal doesn’t work. I call Benjamin. Again. This morning he actually answers. He doesn’t seem to really know who we are or what he should do, but he agrees to come over and meet