Beulah flushed. “I should have known better. No man has ever been interested in me. Why in the world did I believe that someone younger and so very handsome would want anything to do with someone like me? I’m a fool.”
“You’re not a fool,” Gertie said. “You just come from different stock than other people. In Sinful, we tend to take things at face value. It’s speaks to your character that you didn’t suspect the man of nefarious business. It’s simply not in your makeup to do such things, so you don’t expect others to do them, either.”
I was impressed that Gertie managed to deliver that nice little speech with a straight face. Anyone taking things at face value in Sinful was just asking for trouble. Since I’d arrived in town, I’d had the hardest time trying to figure out which end was up, and that was saying a lot given my profession.
Beulah must have bought it, because she gave Gertie a grateful look. “I appreciate your kindness. I know I’m not always the most pleasant person to deal with. You and Ida Belle are saints for offering to help.”
“Are you going to be all right?” Ida Belle asked. “Financially, I mean?”
“Yes,” Beulah said. “Things will be a bit tight for a while, and I’m praying that the air-conditioning and the roof hold out for another year, but I won’t have to sell the house or anything like that.”
“That’s good,” Ida Belle said. “Are you ready to talk about what happened?”
Beulah nodded. “Might as well get it over with. I don’t know that I can be more embarrassed than I already am, and I haven’t died from it so far.”
“Then start at the beginning,” Ida Belle said.
Beulah took a deep breath in and blew it out, then began. “It all started with Facebook. Maryanne said as how I should make an account so that I could see what was going on with my friends and family and such. I couldn’t see the point at first. I only have extended family left and haven’t had dealings with them for years. I probably wouldn’t know most of them if they knocked on my door. My friends are right here in Sinful, and I already know what their lives consist of because I see it firsthand. And quite frankly, no one’s life is so interesting that I think they ought to be taking the time to write it up and post it online.”
From Beulah’s perspective, I could see her point. My minimal exposure to Facebook had been random pictures of people’s meals, a lot of ranting, and odd pictures of people with their lips stuck out and cheeks pulled in like they’d eaten something sour. On the other hand, if Ida Belle and Gertie wrote up their daily lives and posted it online, they’d either be arrested or carted away to the loony bin. I was voting on the latter. No one would buy the truth.
“But Maryanne kept insisting,” Beulah continued, “saying as how I could meet people in groups online…groups for growing roses and cooking and the like. I do enjoy a good discussion on hybridization, and I’m always looking for a new take on an old recipe, so I finally gave in and set up an account.”
“And was it everything Maryanne said it would be?” I asked.
Beulah stared at me for a moment and blinked, like she was trying to remember who I was and why I was there. “Just curious,” I explained. “Gertie keeps trying to convince me to set up an account, but I’m more or less in the same position you are with family and friends.”
“I suppose what Maryanne said was true,” Beulah said. “I found a few groups of flower gardeners, one in particular that had a horticulturalist in it that was very knowledgeable. She provided me with several tips that worked well.”
Beulah frowned. “And then Thorne joined the group.”
“Thorne?” I asked.
Beulah’s expression shifted from frown to disgust. “Thorne Thompson. The man who stole my heart and my money.”
“His name was Thorne?” I asked. What the heck kind of name was that?
Beulah nodded. “He said his mother was a fan of some soap opera that had a character by that name. I thought it ironic, him being in a rose gardening group and being named Thorne. He even made a joke about it.”
“How old is Thorne?” Gertie asked. “Or I guess I should say, how old did he claim to be?”
“He said he was thirty-eight,” Beulah said.
“And that didn’t seem strange?” Ida Belle asked. “A relatively young man, stationed overseas with the military, showing up in a group that I can only imagine was predominantly composed of older women?”