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Stephanie frowned. “Hey.”
“And didn’t you lose money in an ill-advised bet over darts?” Claire chimed in.
“Actually, no. I would have had to get advice for it to be ill-advised. Nobody warned me.”
“Would you have listened if someone had?” Claire asked.
Shrugging, her sister hopped on a stool. “Nope. Bennett, I’m ready to try something new. I’ll take a flight of your best brews.”
“Attagirl,” I said. “Coming right up.” I eyed Claire.
“The same for me,” she said. “We’ll order food shortly.”
“Take your time.” I pulled down the paddles for the flights and lined up the glasses. “How was yoga, Stephanie?”
“You know, it was actually really great. I feel like my posture is already better after only a few sessions.”
She was about to say more, but the front door opened, and a stream of people poured in, several of whom were wearing togas. I was so distracted by the white sheets barely covering old-man asses that I almost didn’t notice the pair of men dressed in Revolutionary-era garb and a trio of women wearing Civil War–era ball gowns.
Stephanie waved to the group. “Hello, Roger!”
A man in a toga approached. “Stephanie, hi! It’s not too late to join us.”
She shook her head. “I appreciate the invitation, but I’m spending the evening with my sister.” She jerked her thumb in Claire’s direction.
“She can come.” Roger spread his arms, and the white fabric shifted dangerously. “Everyone is welcome.”
“Come to what, exactly?” Claire asked because someone sure as hell had to. The Wellness Retreat people rarely surprised me, but this was a new one for them.
“A hypnotist is coming to connect us to our past lives. She encourages us to dress to represent a time we feel strongly connected to.”
Claire nodded thoughtfully. “Huh. Interesting.”
“And we’re here for ale!” a man in the Revolutionary clothing added.
The woman next to him shook her head. “I don’t think alcohol is in the spirit of our assignment.”
“Yes, it is!” he protested. “Everyone knows that back in the seventeen hundreds, ale was safer to drink than water. I’m getting in touch with my former self.”
Sighing, the woman rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, Earl.”
He pointed to the flights I was in the middle of preparing. “I’ll take one of those.”
“Right,” I said, snapping into action and adding another paddle to the lineup. “Anyone else?”
The woman turned up her nose. “I’ll have Diet Coke.”
Grandpa Charlie shuffled over. “Would you folks like a table? You can pick your own, or I’ll show you to the best one in the place.”
One of the toga ladies giggled. “Oh, please do.”
Grandpa Charlie offered his arm and led the group away. Thank God. I was having trouble keeping a straight face.
“Oh, stop,” Stephanie chided. “They’re very nice people.”
“Are you referring to their current selves or their past selves?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“I heard that!” another of the toga women called. “Why don’t you join us and find out, Mr. Bartender? I have an extra toga in the trunk.”
