Looking at the other campers dispersing to their cabins, Jane was slightly embarrassed about the amount of luggage she’d brought with her. She had two bags, not including her purse and backpack, to everyone else’s one. One carry-on held her equipment—computer, camera, tripod—and some of her shoes, each pair in drawstring bags. The second much larger suitcase held the clothes, shoes, and accessories for the photo shoots she planned to do while she was here and all her personal stuff she’d brought for camp. The orientation email encouraged the guests to bring costumes, as there were several events planned at which costumes were optional. Unfortunately, she was so busy planning for the three photo shoots, she didn’t have any time left to get a decent costume together. She brought jeans and a white blouse and if she tied her hair in a ponytail with a scarf and rolled up the cuffs on the jeans, she had an instant, if totally uninspiring, fifties outfit.

She spotted two men trying to maneuver what looked like a wardrobe down the path to the cabins. It was close to six feet tall, covered in black canvas with the words “Everett Cassidy Costumes.” They were having a rough time, even though it had wheels. One of them also had a suitcase as big as hers. Kindred spirits.

Curiosity about what was inside that wardrobe made her hurry over. “Hey, need some help?” she asked.

One of the men smiled—handsome dude in shorts and Birkenstocks. He was tall and slim, with blue eyes and shiny black hair that swooped across his forehead. “You look like you have your own hands full,” he said.

“Nah. Let me take this, then you have both hands free to wrangle that big boy.” She reached for the handle on their suitcase.

“Thanks a lot.”

“What cabin?”

“Moon Bug 10.”

“Hey, I’m in Moon Bug 9. We’re next door neighbors,” she said. “I’m Jane.”

Blue Eyes smiled again. “I’m Everett.”

“Of Everett Cassidy Costumes,” she said.

“The same. I’m based in L.A.”

“Movies? TV?”

“Both,” Everett said.

“And I’m Chopped Liver,” said the other man, laughingly.

“Also known as my husband, Frasier.”

“Pleased to meet you both.” She nodded toward the wardrobe that was cooperating much better now with the two of them guiding it. “Is that for a play or something? Are you part of the entertainment?”

After exchanging a glance, they laughed. “No. They said to bring costumes, so we did.”

Her eyes widened. “Is all that fifties stuff?”

“Yes it’s all fifties stuff, but it’s not all for us,” Everett said. “I was already going to bring costumes for us, because as we found out at our annual Grease Sing-Along, it’s just more fun when you’re wearing something amazing. Costumes let you be someone other than yourself.”

“Or even more than yourself,” Frasier interjected and Everett winked at him.

“And because of the sing-along—which after five years now is an institution—we know that the fun level is in direct proportion to the number of people who dress up. So we packed up the company truck and brought every fifties item in my collection. There are three more of these wardrobes in the truck. This one is just our personal stuff.”

“So, wait, you’re just going to open the truck and let people have at it?” Jane asked. “That sounds like chaos. Plus, people will steal stuff. I know that sounds cynical, but it’s true.”

“The camp is providing staff to keep track of who borrows what.”

“And we’re charging a nominal rental fee,” Frasier said. “Everett wanted to just let everyone borrow things, on the promise that they’d pay if anything got lost or damaged, but as his CPA,” Frasier said, “I couldn’t let him do that. There are just too many expenses incurred—like all the gas for the trip from California to here, the hotels we had to stay at because we couldn’t just fly here like most people…not to mention the cleaning costs afterward.”

They arrived at Moon Bug 10 and Frasier took out his key and swiped it. “Anyway, you’re a sweetheart for helping us. Do you want to go unpack and then come with us to the truck? I’ll give you first pick, on the house, too.”

“Really? Oh my gosh, that’s so nice of you.”

Goodbye jeans and white blouse!

“It’s nothing, really. Meet us here in, say, half an hour?”

“Done!”

Amazed at her good luck, she let herself into her cabin. A rustic king-sized bed dominated and she told herself it would be nice to have that big bed all to herself and not have to share it with Dylan. Beautiful framed black and white photographs hung on the walls. The bathroom was small but nicely appointed. On the table was a schedule for the week and, after unpacking, she looked it over.

So many fun activities—campfires every night, movie screenings, a ’50s slang competition, something called “Frightful or Fabulous: Food Demo and Tasting”… There was even a history professor coming to talk about the fifties era. There were so many things she wanted to do in addition to the three photo shoots, she hoped she’d have no time to feel lonely. She’d never gone on a trip alone before. She’d always had her family or friends or boyfriend with her. It seemed like such a pitiful thing to do. Only losers travelled alone. But after having met Everett and Frasier, she felt a lot better. At least part of the time, she’d be with friends. And for meals, it said right in the brochure that campers were invited to bring food back to their rooms if they chose, because dining alone in the lodge, day after day? She might as well write “loser” across her forehead.

When she came out of her cabin, she saw Everett and Frasier talking with two other men.

“And here she is,” Frasier said. “Guys, this is Jane, our next-door neighbor. Jane, Octavio and Harley. The other half of our foursome.”

Indeed, she noticed that they all wore matching pink jackets with their names embroidered across the right breast.

Octavio was short, had dark hair, a dark complexion and acrylic fingernails painted pink. Harley wore shorts, a golf shirt, and a Panama hat. He had a strong grip and eyelashes Jane would kill for.

“So you’re Pink Ladies for the week?” she asked, referring to the jackets that resembled those worn by four characters in the movie. “I was a Pink Lady for Halloween four years in a row.”

“No, we’re not the Pink Ladies,” Octavio said with a grin. “We’re...” He made a twirling motion with his finger and as one, the four men spun around. “The Pink Gaydies!”

Sure enough, that’s what was emblazoned across their backs in a ’50s style script.

Jane applauded enthusiastically. “Oh, wow. Hands down, best costumes ever. I love those so much it’s not even funny.”

“I love them too,” Octavio said, “even though I’m hotter than hell right now. Jesus. I hope my deodorant is working.”

“Me too,” Frasier and Everett said together as Octavio sniffed his armpit.

They all walked back to the parking lot where a row of parking spaces had been cordoned off. Camp staff members were unloading racks of clothing, shoes—each pair in its own box labeled with a picture and the size—and accessories. They even had pop-up dressing rooms.

Everett immediately started showing her things that would fit her. There were skirts and blouses, sweater sets, cigarette pants, dresses, each piece more exciting that the one before. The boys gathered around and offered their opinions. Everett held pieces of clothing up to her with a professionally critical eye. Part of her worried what he thought about her size, but she pushed that wimpy vestige of her old self back into the closet and reminded herself of her blog motto: Be you, for you.

Over an hour later, after having been fussed over by men who already felt like they’d been friends forever, she had the perfect dress for the Sock Hop on Friday night. It even fit like a dream. She had a couple of everyday outfits, to boot. When she asked Everett if it was all right for her to post pictures of herself in his clothes, he agreed immediately.

“Honey, of course it’s okay. I’m fascinated by this blog of yours. I want to hear more about it.”

“I can tell you over dinner. How’s that?” Jane suggested, hoping it wouldn’t look like she was horning in on them.

“Sounds perfect,” Frasier and Everett said together. They seemed to do that a lot.

Harley raised his hand. “Gentlemen, I can’t wait until dinner. If I don’t eat something soon, I’ll pass out.”

“I read somewhere they have a snack bar that’s open 24/7,” Frasier said.

“How about we go do that and then explore the camp?”

Everyone agreed that was a good idea, so they went to the lodge to find a wonderful selection of food and drinks. Some of it was healthy—fruits and veggies, hummus and a Greek yogurt dip, whole grain and gluten-free crackers, cheese, olives, even pâté. But they also had mini-sandwiches made on brioche rolls that were the size of cupcakes, cookies, snack cakes, different kinds of chips, bean dip—something she hadn’t seen in ages, let alone eaten. After assuaging their hunger, they set off to explore the resort. The place was huge and seemed to have every kind of activity known to man and Jane made a mental note of several she wanted to include on her personal itinerary, namely, the canoes and bikes, archery and hiking trails, bungee trampolines and zip lines. How she was going to fit all that in along with the Grease themed activities and the three blog photo shoots, she had no idea. After dinner, she’d have to plot out the stuff that had special times assigned to them and work around that.

Dinner turned out to be a hoot and a half. Everett regaled them with stories from his career as a costumer—from the time an A-lister celeb’s pants split open, revealing the fact that he’d stuffed the front with athletic socks, to the time a woman insisted she’d spilled a latte on her dress, even though Everett suspected it wasn’t a latte at all.

“People,” Everett said, “I know what a latte smells like and I know what splooge smells like and let me just say her dress did not evoke memories of Starbucks.”

Jane found out that Everett and Frasier had been married for five years, and Octavio and Harley were not currently lovers but they had been, once upon a time, and were now just friends.

“What about you, Jane?” Everett said, “Are you with someone? Want me to introduce you to any celebs? Not Sock Man, obviously.”

Out of habit, she opened her mouth to say she was taken, but closed it again when she remembered she’d broken up with Dylan. It still hadn’t quite sunk in. She was a single lady. Even though she knew it had been the right thing to do, she still felt sad, like something had been wasted. Mostly her time.

“No. I’m not really in the market right now.”

The smiles of her companions faded. Octavio put his manicured hand over hers. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry. Bad break-up?”

To her horror, tears welled up. She tried to laugh it away even as she sniffled. “It’s for the best,” she said. “We just weren’t going anywhere. I…I don’t think he valued me.”

She ended up telling them how Dylan had bailed on her for the camp.

“Did he know it was your birthday? He didn’t forget?” Harley asked.

“No, he knew.”

She told them about Dylan’s pattern of trying to make up for his shortcomings with extravagant gifts.

“He thought a trip to Paris would do the trick. It was very tempting, because I’ve always wanted to go to Paris and he knew that, but…” She sighed. “I realized that every time I let him get away with something like this, I felt…smaller.”

It was like when she was a little girl and had stood at the edge of the surf, not moving. Each time a wave came, it eroded the sand around her feet, but not underneath it. Eventually, she had nothing stable left to stand on.

Harley swirled his wine glass so the Pinot Noir coated the sides of the goblet. “You know…I would have gone.”

They all gaped at him.

“I would have gone to Paris with him, made him buy me all sorts of designer stuff, take me out to the best restaurants, and then the minute the plane touched down back home, dumped his sorry ass.”

Frasier said, “You listen to me, Jane. You’re better off without him. People who love each other are there for each other on their freaking birthdays.”

Jane said, “I would have been okay with it if there hadn’t been this longstanding pattern of cancelling plans.”

“Of course,” Frasier said. “You’re a reasonable person. Things come up, emergencies at work and such.”

He glanced at Everett who said, “I plead the fifth.”

Frasier went on, “But I’m sorry to say this, you’ve also been a bit of a doormat.”

“I know that,” Jane said, “and that’s part of why I’m so upset. It’s my own fault as much as it is his.”

Octavio made a sharp noise. “It is not. Your ex was a selfish prick and you deserve someone better.”

“I’ll say,” Harley said.

“But by letting him get away with it over and over and over again, I enabled him. It was just easier that way.”

“That may be, but the important thing is, you’re rid of him,” Octavio said.

“That’s right” Harley said, pouring everyone some more wine. “In fact, I propose a toast.”

“Oh, here we go,” Frasier said. “I was wondering when you’d get around to it.” He nodded to Jane. “Harley’s hobby is making toasts.”

Harley lifted his chin. “I’ll have you know people make special requests for me to make toasts at their dinner parties.”

Octavio held his hand up. “Settle down, kids. Settle down. Let’s hear Harley’s toast.”

“I want to hear it,” Jane said sincerely.

With an exaggerated throat-clearing that made Jane smile, Harley raised his glass. “Here’s to breaking the chains that hold us back from being our truest and most happy selves, because it is only through self-discovery and courage that we can achieve true fulfillment and make a positive impact on our beautiful world.”

“Hear, hear.”

“And the happiest of belated birthdays to our new friend, Jane.”