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

walking, I say to Pam, “Are you planning to rob these houses?”
    She frowns and says, “What are you talking about?”
    â€œYou haven’t said a word the last two blocks and you seem to be casing all the houses.”
    She smiles. “I’m just trying to figure out how many of these houses are really empty. There were nineteen out of twenty-eight on that last block.”
    So we both count houses on two or three more blocks and figure almost two thirds are unoccupied. As we get home, Pam says, “You know, no one lives next to us on either side, or in the house behind us, or the one across the street.”
    â€œMaybe all these places are as screwed up as our cottage and nobody wants to live in them.”
    â€œNo, really,” Pam says, “I never thought the town would be this empty.”
    Saturday, September 26
    No one showed up Wednesday or Thursday or Friday. I’m going nuts. I call Bob. “This is our fourth Saturday here. This week is over and we’re not even close. We’re never going to be close.”
    â€œOh hell, Dick, don’t move. Let me call Ben. I’ll call you right back,” Bob says. Click. I’m counting to ten very slowly. Over and over again. Slowly.
    He calls back. “Dick, I want you and Pam to be happy there. We will take care of those problems,” Bob says. “Benjamin absolutely promised me he can finish by Tuesday.”
    â€œStop,” I interrupt. “Here’s the deal, Bob. Pam and I have book signings on the west coast. We’re gone from this afternoon until Tuesday afternoon. If, when we get back, everything is not fixed, it will become a huge problem for everyone involved.”
    Tuesday, September 29
    Pam and I get back home this afternoon. Looks like nothing has been done. Pam is just shaking her head.
    â€œI’ve got a suggestion,” I say.
    â€œSuicide… murder… arson… sex… drugs… rock and roll?” Pam says.
    â€œOne or two of those sound okay, but my thought was a walk, a shower, and dinner and dancing at The Chesterfield. No talk of work, no talk of the cottage.”
    â€œAh, the ostrich approach to life,” Pam says. “I like it.”
    â€œSometimes, the ostrich approach can be the best approach,” I say.
    And for one night it works.
    Wednesday, September 30
    When I wake up this morning, Pam is already up. I find her having tea by the pool. She has several of our cottage “lists” and is going through them carefully. She’s listening to classical music, which means she is thinking.
    â€œThis whole thing is nuts, total insanity,” Pam says by way of greeting.
    â€œI guess the ostrich approach has a short shelf life.”
    She gets up. “I’m going in to call Bob.”
    â€œAnd say what?”
    â€œI don’t know. I guess that we won’t live like this.”
    â€œGood,” I say, “because we won’t.”
    When she reappears, she says, “He’s out of the office till Friday. I just left him a message saying we couldn’t go on like this. Something has to be done, like get us a hotel room until the cottage is liveable.”
    â€œWhat a mess.”

five
“WHAT ARE YOU GUYS,
HILLBILLIES?”
    Thursday, October 1
    I open my eyes to early morning light filtering through the curtains. My bedside clock reads seven thirty. I roll over and see Dick still asleep. I watch him for a few minutes, feeling very much in love. On the wall are pictures we took of each other during our honeymoon in Antigua. I had a lucky night at the craps table, and in the pictures we each have a pile of casino chips in our laps, and we’re laughing. Dick looks the same to me now as he did then. Of course, he can’t really, but that’s the way I see him.
    My mind wanders to the present. I can’t believe it’s the first of October and we’re still dealing with house problems.
    Dick rolls