Chapter 26 The Man of Serendipity
"Rhea." Scarlett's voice cracked with surprise and joy.
The woman who'd been getting chewed out by a store manager straightened up at the sound of her name. When she spotted Scarlett, her whole face lit up.
"Ms. Mellon?" The disbelief in her voice was palpable.
"Rhea, it's really you." Scarlett abandoned her shopping cart and practically ran over, both women's eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
The commotion died down with Scarlett's arrival. She turned to face Rhea's accuser, her expression icy. "What exactly did she do wrong?"
"She knocked over an entire display of eggs." The manager shifted uncomfortably.
"I'll pay for the damages." Scarlett's tone left no room for argument.
The manager muttered something about being more careful next time and stalked off with a sour expression.
The moment he was gone, Scarlett whirled back to Rhea, her eyes brimming with emotion.
"Rhea, it's been forever."
Rhea nodded eagerly. "Ms. Mellon, it really has."
Rhea had been the Mellon family's housekeeper—more than that, really. After Scarlett's mom left, Rhea had basically raised her. They were more like mother and daughter than employer and employee.
When everything went down with Owen, Rhea had left the Mellon household. Scarlett had been so consumed with her father's situation back then that she hadn't even thought to get Rhea's contact info. They'd lost touch completely.
"Rhea, please—just call me Scarlett." A warm smile tugged at her lips. That's what the family called her.
Rhea's hands fluttered nervously. "Scarlett, how are you? And your father—how's he doing?"
"I'm good. Dad's... well, same as always." Scarlett paused. "Are you working here now?"
Rhea nodded, and understanding flickered across Scarlett's face. She wanted to ask more, but with customers milling around, this wasn't exactly the place for a heart-to-heart.
Scarlett scooped up Yara in her arms.
"Rhea, this is my daughter, Yara."
Rhea stared at the angel-faced little girl, words failing her for a moment.
"She's absolutely gorgeous. Like a real-life cherub."
"Yara, this is Rhea." Scarlett prompted her daughter, who'd been staring at Rhea with wide eyes.
Yara's mouth curved into a smile. "Rhea," she chirped, her voice sweet as honey.
---
Running into each other like this felt surreal—like something out of a movie.
In a city of millions, finding someone you'd lost touch with? That took more than luck. That was fate doing its thing.
Since Rhea still had hours left on her shift, they couldn't chat long. But they exchanged numbers, and Scarlett made Rhea promise—no, swear—to meet up once she was off work.
Losing contact with Rhea had haunted Scarlett for years. Now, walking away from the store, she felt lighter than air.
"Mommy, you're really happy to see Rhea, aren't you?" Yara had picked up on the change in her mother's mood, tilting her head up as they walked.
Scarlett juggled two heavy shopping bags, glancing down with a grin. "Yeah, baby. Rhea's a really important person to me."
Yara's expression shifted, her little mouth forming a pout. "What about me?"
Scarlett stopped mid-step, then turned back. When she saw that jealous little face, understanding dawned. She set both bags on the ground and crouched down.
"Yara, you're the most important person to me."
The difference between "most important" and "really important" wasn't lost on Yara. Her face transformed, sunshine breaking through clouds.
"Mommy's the most important person to me too!"
Scarlett's heart did that stupid flutter thing. She tapped Yara's nose playfully. "Alright then, let's head home."
Yara nodded so enthusiastically that her whole body bobbed. She reached for one of the bags, tiny hands insistent.
Scarlett fished out the small bag with cucumbers and handed it over.
Yara clutched her prize and skipped ahead, practically glowing with pride.
Watching her daughter's figure bounce down the sidewalk, sunlight painting her golden, Scarlett felt something shift in her chest. Life suddenly had more color to it.
Two bags of groceries weren't exactly light. Sweat beaded on Scarlett's forehead, trickling down her temples. The supermarket wasn't far from Lakeside Garden, but hauling this much weight in the late afternoon heat? Her arms were screaming.
Halfway home, Scarlett set the bags on a planter edge, gasping. "Yara, break time!"
Her daughter froze mid-skip, cucumber bag swinging, then wheeled around and ran back. When she saw her mom's sweat-drenched face, Yara dropped the cucumbers and yanked the towel from around her neck.
"Mommy, let me wipe that for you."
Scarlett bent down with a soft smile, letting Yara's small hands dab at her forehead.
The late afternoon sun had lost its brutal edge. Cars whooshed past, but in that moment, the city seemed to pause—like someone had hit mute on all the chaos. Just a mother and daughter, caught in a pocket of peace.
From inside his Cullinan, Ambrose watched the scene unfold.
The SUV's horn cut through the quiet.
Both heads turned toward the sound.
The black Cullinan sat at the curb like a sleek predator. The driver's side window rolled down, revealing sharp cheekbones and an even sharper gaze.
"Ambrose!" Yara's eyes went wide with recognition and delight.
"Mommy, it's Ambrose!" She spun back to Scarlett, practically vibrating with excitement.
Scarlett's brain stuttered. Yara's earlier words about him echoed in her head.
Before Scarlett could respond, Yara was already sprinting toward the car, towel clutched in one fist. Ambrose opened the door and stepped out just as she reached him.
"Ambrose, what are you doing here? Did you come to bring me candy?" Hope sparkled in her voice.
Ambrose looked down at her. "No."
Yara's face fell for approximately half a second. Then she perked right back up—she'd already had ice cream today anyway. Candy could wait.
"Did you just finish shopping?" Ambrose asked, his gaze sliding past Yara to where Scarlett stood frozen.
Yara nodded, then grabbed his hand and tugged. "Are you here to help us carry stuff?"
Before he could answer, she'd dragged him over to Scarlett.
Scarlett snapped out of whatever trance she'd been in. When their eyes met, her pulse kicked up a notch. She forced herself to sound casual.
"Mr. Boleyn, what brings you to this neighborhood?"
"Car trouble." His tone was maddeningly neutral.
Scarlett took him at his word. "Did you call for a tow truck?"
The question was polite—obligatory, even. He'd done her enough favors that she owed him basic courtesy.
Ambrose nodded, then his attention dropped to the shopping bags. "That's a lot of food. Having people over for dinner?"
Scarlett followed his gaze. How did he always read her so accurately?
Even if he'd guessed right, she wasn't about to admit it. "Just stocking up the fridge."
She reached for the bags, ready to make her escape. "Mr. Boleyn, we should get going."
But Yara stayed planted between them, showing no signs of moving. Scarlett tugged at her hand. "Yara, come on."
Instead of budging, Yara latched onto Ambrose's jacket.
"Ambrose, could you help Mommy carry these? We live super close, and she can barely lift them."