The Palm Beaches
Greenwich Country Capitalist Magazine|Issue 60

IT WAS WINTER 2011; I was sitting alone in my home in Connecticut.

Nancy S. Friedlander
The Palm Beaches

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.  

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