Archer took a seat across the aisle from the two of them, and they leaned toward him to continue their conversation.

“So how much do you guys know about this show? Have you ever seen it?” Archer asked.

“Nah, never seen it, but we know a man who works in maintenance at the resort,” replied Beau. “The guests don’t arrive until Sunday when the season opens, so we have five days left for rehearsal.”

“Left?”

“Yes, the rest of the cast is already there. We were last-minute fill-ins. We’ll have to play catch-up.”

“Where are you from?” Ben asked. Or was it Beau?

“Ohio. Been in New York for five months.”

“Only five months?”

“Yeah. I, uh … I was an accountant.” Archer flushed.

“Chasing the dream, eh?” Beau (or Ben) asked kindly.

Archer chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “I suppose so.” He changed the subject. “Where are you two from?”

Ben and Beau were ballroom dancers from Quebec who decided to audition for the show on a bit of a whim, thinking it would be a fun summer job. Normally, they taught ballroom in Montreal. Archer remembered the way they moved as one at the audition during the samba and wasn’t surprised they had been chosen together. They chatted easily the rest of the way, and Archer was glad he would arrive already knowing these two.

The buildings gave way to trees as the bus rolled north. To Archer, when he was growing up, New York meant skyscrapers and sidewalks, and, for some reason, he had never considered the rest of the state. Leafy green trees covered gently sloping hills, with the odd flash of a placid lake or frothy waterfall visible through the foliage.

He had stalked Shady Queens’ Instagram, so he had some idea what it would look like, but the place was much more charming in person. There was a large main building waiting for them at the bottom of the maple-shaded gravel drive. It was a three-story white Victorian shingle with rainbow trim, and there were three bright and new-looking pride flags hanging from poles across the front. A WELCOME STAFF sign was tied to the front railing. Other smaller white buildings and cabins spilled down the hill toward the lake, which sparkled in the afternoon sun.

Archer trudged up the creaking steps, suitcase in hand, and pushed open the front door. A woman stood behind the reception desk in a flowery yellow and orange dress with gray hair twisted into a messy knot.

“Hi, I’m Archer Read,” he said, showing her the paperwork they’d given him after the audition.

She didn’t look at it but smiled at him instead. “Department?”

“Uh … dancing?”

“We call you Entertainment, dear.” She pecked at the keyboard.

“Oh.”

He stepped aside to let Beau and Ben introduce themselves.

“Nice to meet you all. I’m Macy Cunningham, but everyone calls me Mrs. C. Any of you been here before?”