Perhaps more than ever, Donald Trump seems to be pining for a return to Palm Beach, where he will begin a 16-day holiday starting on Friday at his beloved club, Mar-a-Lago. Trump is astutely aware of his own condition, and he surely knows what he will face when he returns to Washington at the beginning of the new year—the Mueller report, Congressional investigations, potential inquiries into his family members, questions about his withdrawal from Syria, presumably more staff defections. Trump is great at compartmentalizing unpleasantness and even pretending it does not exist. But as he drives around the links in his golf cart and dines at Mar-a-Lago, it will take an act of enormous will for him not to think about what the new year may bring.

Trump turned Mar-a-Lago into a club in the mid-90s because he was in the midst of a financial crisis and needed the money, but he quickly became a marvelous steward of the place, which proved to be a perfect venue for him to be himself. And at Mar-a-Lago, adoring members would celebrate his every move as Trump wandered around the premises as the majordomo, greeting guests and making sure everything was correct. For years, Trump would constantly ask members how they were enjoying the club. The only acceptable answer, it seemed, was “great.”

Early on, I was offered a free membership. I turned the offer down since I had so many friends who belonged that I was there often enough that some people thought I was a member. Trump was an exuberant presence, and I have many great memories. There was the Christmas Eve when Trump lovingly danced with his daughter Ivanka in the ballroom. (For a large man, he is light on his feet.) During the annual pro-am charity tennis event, Trump took the best pro as his partner each year. When he reached the age that he no longer could win the trophy, even with a fabulous partner, he gave up the sport.

Things got even more theatrical when Trump became president and members could savor a taste of the action. Early in his presidency, Cabinet members debated matters of state at the club. President Xi Jinping arrived as Trump’s guest. Trump and Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe handled a potential international crisis at their dining table. No matter their politics, members generally rose and applauded when Trump entered the dining room. When they got the chance, many assured the president that everything was, of course, “great.”

But things aren’t necessarily great at the club now. “The service is terrible, if you’re not in, like, the four tables around the president, forget it,” says one longtime member. “The servers aren’t well-trained. You have to beg for water. The food is the same menu year after year. People complain about it. It’s just not good.” The “Trump Wedge Salad” is an enormous slab of iceberg lettuce covered with so much glutinous blue cheese dressing that the dish should rightfully be called “Trump Wedge Salad Dressing.” “Trump Chocolate Cake” is a humungous tranche of cake so sweet that it is a wonder there aren’t dentists on call to deal with cavities.

Mar-a-Lago has other problems, too. The erection of the nearby Southern Bridge means that pile drivers are going virtually all day long; it’s often so loud that it’s inconvenient to play tennis on the red clay courts or sit outside for lunch. And while there are still probably more Republicans than Democrats among the club’s 500 members, many are beginning to criticize the proprietor. This is an extraordinary reversal. When I began work on my new book, Mar-a-Lago: Inside the Gates of Power at Donald Trump’s Presidential Palace, almost everybody was afraid to talk to me. One of my oldest acquaintances on the island, Cynthia Friedman, was a big-time Democratic fund-raiser, a militant Hillary Clinton supporter, and a Mar-a-Lago member. She never returned my many calls. I was able to reach her this week. She said the whole business had been terribly painful and she had finally left the club. Other members spoke to me, but off the record, or with only the most circumscribed recollections.