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You get the picture. He loves our little town and it’s residents, and, in general, they love him, too, and take an active part in protecting his privacy. 

He loves his privacy.

He has managed to make it work.

I get to town several times a week, to pick up the mail, get a few groceries and have lunch with Sharon Kelly, premiere real estate agent and best friend since forever.

Monday, I hurried through my errands – hardware store, grocery store and post office – looking forward to lunch. 

The specials menu is always the same: Monday, pot roast; Tuesday, ham; Wednesday, macaroni and cheese; Thursday, chicken and dumplings, and Friday is fish. Weekends are chef’s choice.

When I joined Sharon, she was half way finished with the pot roast plate – deep brown chunks of tender beef, swimming in brown gravy, mashed potatoes and glazed carrots.

I opted for the bacon burger and fries. Kelly’s still makes their fries the old-fashioned way – peeling, slicing and deep frying the potatoes.

Sally, the waitress, and Monarch Beach’s personal encyclopedia, took my order, filled my cup and scurried back up front.

“Is she okay?”