Year in Palm Beach by Pamela Acheson, Richard B. Myers Page B

while. We’re not even fully settled in ourselves, but the futon is in the guest cottage, and we’re happy to see these two characters.
    They pull into our driveway around five o’clock. After some hugging and unloading of luggage, we all take a walk. In about an hour we end up at the beach. The four of us wander in and out of the surf and chat and continue to catch up on the kids, the news, and who’s doing what.
    Then it’s back to the cottage to prepare for the evening’s activities. Pam goes in to feed the birds and change their water.
    â€œDo I need a tie?” Theo says.
    â€œYes,” Deborah says. She turns to me. “What does Pam wear?”
    â€œTheo, you don’t need a tie. I usually wear one, but that’s me,” I say. “Deborah, Pam usually wears a skirt and heels, maybe a jacket. Wear what you want.”
    After showers, we gather at the pool for cocktails. Theo says, “My brother told us to have a drink at Bice for him, so I want to do that. The rest of the evening is your choice, and it’s on me.”
    â€œTheo, I’m thinking if you’re picking up the tab maybe the four of us should go to Bermuda for dinner, but how about Bice for a drink, Renato’s for dinner, and then maybe a nightcap and dance at The Chesterfield Hotel. And it’s on us,” I say.
    â€œWe’ll arm wrestle for the check,” Theo says. “That’s what I said. It’s on us.”
    Everyone agrees on the plan, and Deborah says, “We’ve got your cars blocked in with our car, so Theo’ll drive everybody to Bice.”
    Pam shakes her head, “You don’t have to drive.”
    â€œIt will be easier. We won’t have to jockey the cars around,” Deborah says.
    â€œNo. Theo doesn’t have to drive. Dick doesn’t have to drive. No one has to drive. We’re walking,” Pam says.
    Theo and Deborah both look at us. Deborah says, “We walked around town with you guys for an hour. I didn’t see any restaurants or bars. Just those mansions.”
    â€œDeborah, relax. There are a dozen bars and restaurants in a couple of short blocks. They’re just in a different direction,” I say.
    We take the short walk to Bice (much to Deborah’s surprise) and have a drink and toast Theo’s brother. Halfway through his drink, Theo starts talking wine and speaking Italian to Ronnie and Jose.
    â€œTheo, talking about wine puts people to sleep,” I say. “And why are you speaking Italian? Ronnie was born in Sweden, Jose was born in Mexico, and you were born in Bronxville.”
    We finish our drinks and walk to Renato’s. Brad greets us and seats us. “I like restaurants like this,” Deborah says, “where the maitre d’ wears a suit, the captains wear dinner jackets, and the customers are dressed up.”
    â€œIt was the same at Bice,” Theo says. “We’re not in Kansas anymore.”
    Theo insists on choosing the wine and consults with Luciano, in Italian, of course.
    Two hours and two bottles of wine later, we thank Brad and Luciano and we’re off to The Chesterfield. After a few dances, the four of us are standing at the bar, and I say, “Theo, remember that chicken step or chicken-walk thing you used to do? The one that got you thrown out of dancing school.”
    â€œRemember it? I still do it,” he says. He points. “What’s with this ceiling?”
    Pam laughs and says, “What do you guys think it looks like?” Deborah looks up and says, “Well, it’s definitely R-rated. I see some naked women, some lusty men. Actually, those are satyrs, I think.”
    â€œI like it,” Theo says. “Everybody should paint their ceilings with stuff like that.”
    â€œRight,” I say. “Time for one more dance. It’s a school night.” Adam starts playing a fast song. “We’re doing this one,” Deborah