In Palm Beach, where the sun lingers like a lover and bougainvillea tumbles over coral stone walls, elegance is expected but never shouted. Here, yachts as graceful as swans glide into the Town of Palm Beach Marina, a sanctuary that whispers luxury with the kind of charm only found in travel journals of yesteryear. It is the kind of place that could have lured Hemingway to dock and linger—if he favored chilled rosé over rum and a silkier kind of quiet.

‍