Chapter 5
Luke
Mioko and I spent our Saturday in the kitchen, packaging orders while my moms frantically finished candies for the tourists in town for a festive weekend of fun.
Between Mioko’s help and Lori’s secret spreadsheets, we were almost caught up.
But I could only taste the bitterness of Thursday’s odd encounter with Eli.
He seemed angrier every time I saw him, but that was the thing. I still got to see him. That counted for something, but I needed to break through, somehow.
Shaking my head, I focused on the assembly line of holiday gift boxes in front of me, trying to lose myself in the mindless rhythm of fold, tuck, seal, repeat.
“Why the sad face?” Mioko asked, not looking up from tying a perfect burgundy bow on a package of maple cream caramels.
“It’s nothing.”
Mioko raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Very convincing.”
I sighed, folding another box. “Fine. I just… Eli accused me of abandoning him, but he abandoned me. Rejected me.” I pressed a crease. “Six years, and he’s still acting like I committed an unforgivable sin by taking a job in the city.”
“There has to be more than just the job.” Her voice was light and curious, but I still felt my defenses rise.
“I went to Boston College because that was where I got a scholarship. I came back every summer, every break. It’s not like I joined a cult.” I winced as soon as the words left my mouth. “Sorry. Bad choice of words.”
Mioko laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “It’s fine. I grew up in a cult. It’s just a fact, like saying you grew up in a candy factory.”
“Maple sugar confectionery,” I corrected, the way my moms did, and she elbowed me and giggled.
“How did Eli reject you?”
“He knew I wanted a job in Boston. I told him I needed to experience city life for a while and escape this tiny town.”
“People can know something’s coming and still not be prepared for how it feels,” Mioko said, her fingers dancing over the ribbon. “Why didn’t you visit each other?”
“We had a fight. I don’t remember the specifics.”
That wasn’t true. I could pinpoint the end of our friendship to a single awful night I’d spent six years trying to forget. But I wasn’t about to spill that particular story to Mioko, no matter how easy she was to talk to.
“Whatever you’re pretending not to remember, you should tell him how it made you feel,” she said.
“But honestly, I think it’s beautiful that after six years, you two still care enough to be angry.
Not everyone gets to experience a connection where feelings stay that strong across time and distance. ”
“I’m not pretending,” I tried to sound grumpy, but her words were sinking in, making me feel things I hadn’t felt for a long time. I huffed out a breath, then lowered my voice. “I just don’t want to talk about it.”
She didn’t argue. Instead, she switched our task, handing me a stack of red boxes and nudging a bag of cinnamon-scented pinecones toward me. “One of these in each box? They’re for the Maple Winter Wonderland sets. I’ll add the caramels.”
I nodded, grateful for the change in subject. The pinecones filled the air with their spicy scent as I nestled them among the tissue paper. “How’d you get so good at this? The perfect bows and beautiful packages, I mean.”
“Edie taught me.” She smiled, a soft, fond expression that made my chest twist. “Presentation is half the magic. A beautiful package means the treat inside tastes twice as sweet.”
“That sounds like Mom,” I said. “But she also thinks Mercury retrograde affects chocolate tempering, so take her wisdom with a grain of salt.”
Mioko laughed. “Your moms saved my life. I don’t know where I’d be if they hadn’t found me that day.”
I looked up from the pinecone I was placing. “What day?”
She met my eyes, her expression serious.
“When I was sixteen, I ran away from the cult, my family, and everything I’d ever known.
I ended up in Maple Crossing not because I chose it, but because that’s as far from home as my bus fare would take me.
I was considering sleeping on a park bench for the third night in a row, when I saw a ‘Help Wanted’ sign in the candy shop’s window, and the rest is history.
They offered me a job and a place to stay, no questions asked. ”
The casual way she said it—like it was normal for a sixteen-year-old to be homeless and desperate—made my heart ache. “I didn’t know that.”
“You were away at college. I was a weird girl in a homemade dress working the cash register.” She was making light of it all, but the sadness in her eyes made me want to hug her, to protect her from all the bad things.
“Sixteen,” I repeated, the implications sinking in. “That’s young to be on your own.”
She nodded, fingers working the ribbon, though her eyes were distant. “Edie and Maggie told everyone I was eighteen so no one would ask questions and discover I was a runaway. I was scared the town elders would find me and drag me back. They helped me get my GED, helped me start over.”
“Jesus, Mioko. I’m sorry.” I felt a wave of shame for how dismissive I’d been of her over the years. “I had no idea.”
“You already apologized.” She shrugged. “And at least you didn’t try to marry me off to a forty-year-old church elder when I turned sixteen.”
My hands froze over the box I was folding, my stomach turning at the image she was casually painting. “Is that why you ran away?”
Mioko nodded, her smile tight. “My parents said I was called by their scriptures to be his bride. When I refused, they locked me in the prayer room for three days with only water. Said I could come out when I was ready to be ‘obedient to God’s will.’”
“Fuck,” I whispered, the urge to take away all of her trauma growing stronger. “What did you do?”
“I climbed out a window on the third night and ran. Didn’t take anything but the clothes I was wearing and the thirty-eight dollars I’d saved from selling eggs at the farmer’s market. Bought a bus ticket to Maple Crossing.”
“Have you... have you ever gone back? Or talked to them?”
Her laugh was hollow, nothing like the warm sound from earlier.
“Fuck, no. The compound was pretty isolated. No internet, no regular contact with the outside world. It’s too big of a risk to go back there in person.
” She sighed. “The funny thing is, my parents weren’t stupid or uneducated.
They grew up in a wealthy suburb in California.
They met the church leaders while they were both at Cornell. ”
“Have you reached out to their families?”
“Nah, I haven’t been able to find anyone who was still alive.
And what would I say, anyway?” Her voice cracked a little, but her hands stayed steady and sure.
This woman, with her nimble fingers and messy braid, had survived something unimaginable.
She had built a life from nothing but her determination and the kindness of my family.
“How are you so... normal?” The question came out before I could stop it, and I winced. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant. You seem so well-adjusted. Happy, even.”
Mioko smiled, and this time it reached her eyes, crinkling the corners.
“Loads of therapy? I’m a lot of things, but I’m pretty sure ‘normal’ isn’t one of them.
As for happy... I choose to be. When I was younger, I found hope in small places, and came to believe I could find a new family.
I collect good people, like Edie, Maggie, and Lori.
” She elbowed me. “Maybe even you, Luke.”
We worked in silence for a few minutes, the rhythm of our hands creating a soothing pattern. Fold, tuck, place. Tie, loop, pull. The scent of cinnamon and maple wrapped around us like a blanket, and I found myself relaxing, the tension from the encounters with Eli melting away.
“Look at me. All day working at Tapped Amber, and not a single fight with either of my moms.”
Mioko laughed, the sound bright and clear in the warm candy kitchen. “I like you, Luke Merrick. When you’re not being a corporate robot or calling me ‘cult girl,’ that is.”
“I like you too,” I said. In just a few days, Mioko had slipped past my defenses, making me laugh and think and feel in ways I hadn’t expected.
She finished another bow, then glanced at me with a mischievous expression. “So, what are you doing tonight?”
“Uh, relaxing at home?”
She shook her head. “Nope. You’re coming with me on a winter sleigh ride. Lori gave me the tickets she bought for her and Joe, and I have to use them with someone.”
“A sleigh ride?”
“Lori bought the tickets before she was put on bedrest. She’s very grumpy about not using them, so I volunteered. I figured, why not? When was the last time you did something fun?”
I couldn’t remember, which was answer enough. “Fair point.”
“Come on, Luke. One night of small-town Christmas magic won’t kill you.”
“Something tells me you haven’t met Walt, who runs the sleighs.”
She burst out laughing, and looking at her—cheeks flushed with warmth, a smudge of glitter on her temple that caught the light, and that infectious smile that made it impossible not to smile back.
“Okay. One night of small-town magic it is.”
“Great. Let’s box and label these. They need to be dropped at the post office by five. Only two weeks until Christmas!”