IT WAS WINTER 2011; I was sitting alone in my home in Connecticut.
Both my children were in college miles away. Two feet of snow had already fallen, and it wasn’t stopping any time soon. I opened the door to walk my dogs and the two of them sat in protest. They had had enough with the cold, and I realized that I had too. It was time for a permanent vacation.
In choosing where to move, the choice was simple. Despite growing up and raising my children on the East Coast, Palm Beach had always been a welcome escape for my family. Whether to see family and friends, head to a world-renowned art show, manage family real estate, or watch my child play in a golf tournament, I was in the Palm Beach sun at least every month. Only in Florida could I wake up, have fresh squeezed Florida orange juice at breakfast, get a game of golf in and have my toes in the sand ALL YEAR round.
Esta historia es de la edición Issue 60 de Greenwich Country Capitalist Magazine.
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Esta historia es de la edición Issue 60 de Greenwich Country Capitalist Magazine.
Comience su prueba gratuita de Magzter GOLD de 7 días para acceder a miles de historias premium seleccionadas y a más de 9,000 revistas y periódicos.
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The Palm Beaches
IT WAS WINTER 2011; I was sitting alone in my home in Connecticut.
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