She came puffing up to them. “Hello, loves. My goodness.” She put her hand on her hips and leaned back to catch her breath for a moment. “It’s already so hot, and it’s not even June yet.” A few silver curls had escaped from her cap.

“Ms. Lamb,” Archer said, smiling.

She didn’t seem surprised that he knew her name. “Yes, and you are…?”

“Archer Read,” he said as she shook his hand. “And you may already know Caleb?”

“Hi there,” Caleb said with his seasoned performance smile.

“Hello, Caleb. I do remember you from years previous.” But Eileen barely glanced at him. “I had to talk to you, Mr. Read, and let you know that the ballet duet you did with Mr. Dixon was breathtaking.”

“Oh, thank you. And please, call me Archer.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Caleb muttered to him.

“Okay,” Archer replied, but Caleb was already several steps away.

“Well, Archer, it was just stunning,” Eileen continued. “You two literally took my breath away. Those grand jetés at the end? Superb.”

“Thank you so much, Ms. Lamb.” Archer had never had anyone approach him in public about his dancing before, and he had to admit it was rather thrilling.

“You know, I used to be something of a dancer in my day,” she informed him, patting a curl back into place.

“Oh? What kind of dancing?”

“Ballroom—the waltz was my favorite. But I was almost a Rockette, you know.” She sighed. “That was another time, of course. Perhaps I could have you and Mr. Dixon for tea sometime and tell you all about it? We could talk dance?”

“That sounds great.”

“That last cabin”—she turned to point along the east side of the lake, to the very last one perched by the shore with its own small dock—“is where I stay every summer. Been here for years.”

“Oh, that’s awesome. You must really love it here.”

“I sure do. What about Wednesday?”

“Wednesday?”

“Would you and Mr. Dixon like to come to tea on Wednesday afternoon?”

“Oh, um…” Archer’s brain whirred. “Let me ask Mateo.”

“Thank you, Archer. I’d love to talk more.”

“Me too. I’d better get going now, Ms. Lamb, but it was lovely to meet you.”

“You too, Archer. I’ll look forward to seeing that piece every week.”

“Thank you. I look forward to dancing it.”

On Monday, they were waiting offstage for Francisco’s welcoming announcement for Club Retro when Archer heard the murmur of two voices arguing but trying to be quiet about it. He turned to see Ben and Beau facing off, arms crossed and glaring, anger in stark juxtaposition to their shimmering white costumes. The other dancers were turning to watch them, too.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ben hissed at his boyfriend. “You’re going to pull this shit on me now? We go on in two minutes!”