Read Online Year in Palm Beach by Pamela Acheson, Richard B. Myers - Free Book Online Page A

computerized.
    These kids can safely walk to school or the beach or the soccer field or the tennis courts. Probably, for these families, Palm Beach is like a small, safe, old-fashioned town. In this day and age, I think, what a privilege to grow up in a place like this.
    Monday, October 12
    Dick and I have made dinner and set the table, but we feel like having cocktails out. We walk to Taboo, check on the aquarium fish, and settle into seats next to two thirty-something women. Bobby comes over and we order drinks.
    The woman sitting next to me reaches into a little shopping bag, takes out a small box, and shows her friend the diamond bracelet she just bought.
    â€œIt cost forty thousand dollars,” she says. “He’ll never know.” I take a discreet peek at the bracelet. It’s dazzling.
    The woman glances toward Taboo’s entrance. “Oh my God, my husband just walked in! I can’t let him see this!”
    She puts the bracelet back in the box, stuffs the box in the bag, and turns to Bobby.
    â€œQuick, hide this behind the bar!” she says as she hands him a little Tiffany shopping bag.
    Forty thousand dollars worth of jewelry, tucked between the olives, the onions, and the Bloody Mary mix.
    Tuesday, October 13
    Duckie and Blanco need their nails and wings clipped. Naturally there’s no place to get this done on the island, so I check the
West Palm Beach Yellow Pages
for pet stores, find Birds off Broadway, and talk to Jay, the owner, who tells me our birds can’t be clipped until they’ve had their annual exam by a veterinarian. Our cockatiels have lived nine years without annual exams.
    â€œAnnual exams,” I say, “for birds?”
    â€œBefore you can bring them here for clipping, they need a physical exam, and they must be tested for …” and he rattles off a bunch of Latin-sounding words. “Just call this doctor; she’ll know what you need,” he says, giving me a number. I call and, to my surprise, can make an appointment for this afternoon.
    After lunch, Dick and I put Duckie and Blanco in their traveling cage and get in the Audi. The doctor is a good half hour away over unfamiliar roads, but with the help of directions magically beamed to my cell, we get there on time.
    I must say, although I have always loved maps and still keep them in the glove compartment, I do enjoy punching an address into my iPhone and having the appropriate route appear on the screen, complete with a little blue pulsating dot that tracks my progress.
    Duckie and Blanco pass all the necessary tests, and the doctor hands me a certificate verifying the birds’ excellent health. She also takes care of the clipping of wings and nails. Next time I’ll take them to the much closer Birds off Broadway, armed with the proper papers.
    Thursday, October 15
    The weather continues to be warm. Dick reads me disturbing news from the Shiny Sheet: “A thirty-eight-year-old man was arrested for trying to steal five cases of Bud Light from Publix.” Book him, Danno.
    We’re interrupted by a singularly Palm Beach-esque courtesy call from a British-accented gentleman who is worried about our staffing needs.
    â€œWith the Palm Beach season fast approaching,” he explains, “some of our households are finding they might be understaffed. From chefs to chauffeurs, butlers to bodyguards, we offer the finest in insured and bonded household staff.”
    I assure him our household is quite adequately staffed, thank him for thinking of us, and hang up.
    We actually do have a butler, Hank, who has been with us since before we were married. Hank is about four feet tall, made of oak, and holds a tray with just enough room to rest a drink or two. Really all the staff we need, or can afford, or want.
    Our life in Palm Beach is developing a routine. On weekdays we work for a few hours, break at midmorning to take a walk, break again for lunch and several games of cribbage,