Eleanor was 72 when she wandered into the park one Sunday afternoon and saw a small group dancing under the gazebo. Frank, 75, caught her eye and offered his hand. She laughed and said she didn’t know the steps, but he said, “That’s alright — I’ll lead.” They danced through one song, then another. By the end of the afternoon, they had made plans to meet for coffee. Six years later, they’re still dancing — sometimes in the park, sometimes in the kitchen.