Alyssa Cabot awoke, still in the four-poster that sat in her suite in the Wonka factory. The previous day had been spent with her following dotingly at Willy's heels as he went about a day's work as he always did. The Alyssa Cabot she'd been a year ago – heavens, the Alyssa Cabot she'd been a week ago – didn't follow, and most definitely didn't dote. But perhaps, she assured herself, the Alyssa Cabot she'd been a week ago wasn't the real Alyssa after all, it couldn't have been.
She rubbed her eyes, stretching slightly as she sat up in bed, quite ready and eager to see what the day brought her, a feeling of invigoration that was unusual for her, yet wonderfully welcome. She ought to have been thinking about whether or not Shay had opened the shop on time back home. She ought to have wondered when she would be getting home. She ought to have wondered quite a few things – but instead, as she spotted a small vase of flowers on her bedside table, she could only wonder why and how they had found their way to her room unnoticed, as she was sure they had not been there the night before.
Alyssa ran her hands over the petals – sculpted red sugar dipped in white chocolate – and smiled as she picked up the small note written in royal purple ink, embossed in gold.
May this be the first of many sweet surprises, the beginning of another glorious day.
She smiled, sighing and feeling much more awake at that point, standing up and walking over to the wardrobe on the other side of the room so she could change into the white sundress again, having had it cleaned and pressed by the Oompa Loompas. However, when she pulled open the heavy wooden doors, she found that next to the white dress was a far more eye-catching one – the same sort of dress, but pastel green lined in white lace. For a moment, Alyssa could only stare. It wasn't outrageous in any way, the color was light and muted enough not to seem indecent or gaudy, but were still quite a bit more color than Alyssa was accustomed to wearing. Still, it was wonderfully tempting, and she changed into it without a qualm.
It was a relief to actually be able to find her way to the Chocolate Room, where by now she'd learned Willy always visited early in the morning to observe everything running smoothly and freely in this haven for innocence that he had created, everything functioning properly in the way its creator intended. Indeed, Alyssa still went a bit breathless every time she walked into the Chocolate Room, because there was so much to see, it seemed as though it was always changing.
After taking in the scenery as she always did, Alyssa shifted her attention to the figure with his back turned to her, standing at the edge of the Chocolate River, leaning casually on his cane. She smiled, realizing that she was still unnoticed, and walked quietly up behind him.
"Morning, Willy," she said with a gentle, coquettish laugh. He turned around fluidly and grinned warmly, placing his hands gently and fondly on her shoulders after she did a bit of a twirl in the new dress.
"It appears my taste is impeccable as usual," he said, cocking his head to one side.
"Yes," Alyssa nodded, touching one of her hands gently to his that now rested on her upper arm. "The dress really is very nice –"
"I was referring," he interrupted with a small smirk, catching her hand and giving her a dancer-like twirl, dipping her gently and meeting her eyes with his own, "to the little nymph who happens to be wearing it."
"Hard at work as usual, I see," she laughed playfully as Willy gently let her back onto her feet, and she caught sight of a roll of large graphing paper sitting on the ground next to him. "Is it too top secret for my eyes?"
"Never for you," he laughed, sitting down on the grass with Alyssa following suit, laying down on her stomach across from him as he unrolled the sheet. "It's the plan for my next project."
"Cakes." Alyssa read aloud – and indeed, the words in large, ornate lettering was the only thing on the entire sheet of paper. He'd been doing a great deal of thinking, it seemed, but hardly a modicum of actual planning, which was very much unlike him. "You haven't designed anything." She added curiously, turning her head to the side as though perhaps, a drawing would appear if she merely shifted and caught the right bit of light – though she'd never seen anything of the sort, it was the sort of thing she wouldn't have put past Willy Wonka.
"Yes, well I haven't the slightest idea how to mix a batch of cake batter nearly as well as I churn my chocolate," he said confidently, gesturing towards the chocolate waterfall, though not taking his eyes off of Alyssa, whose eye were in turn focused on the blank piece of paper. It was a rare occurrence indeed that Willy shared his own ideas, or lack thereof if the instance came about, with anyone.
"Well," she said, staring pensively at the chocolate waterfall, and looking up at Willy after a good bit of thinking, "It's simple, isn't it? By fountain," she grinned. She picked up the pencil that was in the grass next to them. "Here, let me see," she said pleasantly, pulling the paper closer to herself and beginning to draw an extremely elaborate-looking design for a fountain-like, multi-layered structure that may well have only existed in her imagination.
Willy found it absolutely fabulous.
"I think you're wonderful," he mused aloud while Alyssa was still working on her sketch. While she didn't pause in her concentration to look up at Willy, he found it quite indulging indeed to see her smile, the same unencumbered, mischievous grin he recognized to be hers, regardless of the change the years had caused. She fit into his world so wonderfully, he was only glad that he'd taken her away from the outside world in time to keep the Alyssa he knew from being lost forever, for when he'd first found her, it seemed she'd been heading in that direction.
"Done!" she piped up, and only then did Willy realize that he'd been in his own thoughts for quite a considerable amount of time. He leaned over her drawing, turning his head so he could view it right-side up. He smiled at the drawing – a fantastical contraption, a fountain of quite a few layers that looked as if it belonged in the front porch of some mansion. He could only grin.
"I'm not sure I believe you've never invented anything," Willy laughed, plucking the pencil out of her hands and placing it down in the grass next to her.
"Now that I'm sure, I'm not sure I never have either," Alyssa said, a far-away expression crossing her face. It was all strangely dream-like, as though her past had faded into non-existence, and the experience she was so savoring in the presence would indeed be her future – she and Willy, working with one another in a life they and no one else had chosen. "It's like what we planned, isn't it?" she asked, the expression on her face turning into a smile, but not quite the same smile Willy was accustomed to. This smile came with so much concentration, with wistfulness, with concern.
"Of course it is," he said, unable to help the very same smile from crossing his own features. Alyssa's nose wrinkled as she held back a laugh at this response.
"You act as if you know everything I'm going to say before I even say it," she said with a playful 'harrumph' as she leaned back on her forearms. Willy could only chuckle at the statement, and at her expression, the same sort of cherubic, childish knowledge that she'd exuded when she'd come across him in his father's coat closet.
"Well, this is my factory, after all," he said with a matter-of-fact grin. "I'm entitled to know the goings-on inside of it."
Had it been any other place or time, Alyssa would have recoiled at the idea of him thinking she was the equivalent of one of his inventions, and that would have been the suggestion she'd have receive from his statement: that he had the right to know her, to have her – though in all fairness, none of that was true of how he thought of her. He merely spoke in the terms to which he was very much accustomed, and in any case, Alyssa's head was so engulfed in a haze of wonder, awe, whimsy, and another emotion she couldn't quite bring her self to identify, she couldn't bring herself to think anything of it. She had grown so attached so quickly to this life, where her and Willy's most pressing concern was his newest invention – their newest invention. As absurd as it would have seemed under any other circumstances, she never wanted to leave, not when she'd finally found a means of escaping everything completely.
"I never imagined –"
"Never?" Willy interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "Well, you ought to try being imaginative more often, it's quite –"
"Willy," Alyssa said, leaning over and placing a finger to his lips. "It's rude to interrupt." She giggled lightly and placed another characteristically light kiss on his lips, and for a brief moment, they looked at one another and somehow felt as though they were realizing all the wonderful turmoil the other had gone through in the past few days, realizing how similar it had been to their own. Willy quite nearly realized that there were things he could not help but feel for Alyssa Cabot, the same girl who had opened a closet door years ago and found herself quite stuck in the most obscure recesses of his heart ever since. Alyssa quite nearly realized that the real Alyssa would never have been so silly as to deny what these undeniable emotions were, as far as William Wonka was concerned. And indeed, she was the first to make any attempt to break the silence – her lips parted ever so slightly to speak, and it seemed that Willy practically leapt to hear what she had to say.
"Willy, I –"
"Yes?" he said eagerly, though this time his interruption hadn't been intentional. Indeed, he quickly regretted it, and regret was a thing to which Willy was wholly unaccustomed – it appeared that Alyssa had no intention of finishing what she had to say, as her gaze had now very abruptly averted to the pencil in the grass, her face reddening slightly. "You shouldn't cut yourself off that way," Willy said as he craned his head to catch her eye, in hopes that perhaps he could recreate whatever that delectably confusing feeling had been just moments earlier. "You might have been about to say something positively brilliant."
"I – I didn't say anything?" Alyssa said, feigning a confused smile.
Their brief encounter would continue to vex Willy throughout his busy workday – or rather, it vexed him that although even the thought of it was terribly distracting, he admittedly had no desire to push it from his mind. Instead, he went about his business, allowing the occasional thought to divert him from his work – after all, Wonka's company was in no hurry to flood the market with new ideas when the old ones worked perfectly fine as they were. The thought of these unintelligible inklings Willy had been experiencing as of late were incredibly frivolous, more frivolous than anything else at the moment, and that alone made them matters of utmost importance.
"The two of you make a very good couple," Charlie piped in matter-of-factly as Willy was testing a batch of cherry flavored liquid for one of Charlie's latest and most interesting ideas. He quickly dropped the dropper he was holding, caught off guard by Charlie's observation.
"Heavens, no, dear boy," he laughed, pushing his project for the moment to aside – it seemed of utmost importance to clarify where his young apprentice had clearly misunderstood the situation. "Just because Alyssa and I work exceptionally well together doesn't necessarily mean –"
"I don't think all of the kissing you both do counts as working," Charlie interrupted, his face very much innocent and unsuggesting – he was merely making an observation that Willy found himself very much unable to argue with. "The two of you are in love," Charlie added with an eager grin.
"Love complicates things terribly," Willy said, nodding down in Charlie's direction with a cocked eyebrow. "I'm content with the present state of things, and furthermore, I'm content that Miss Cabot is content with the present state of things. Am I clear so far?"
Charlie paused for a moment, pursing his lips in thought. "No, Mr. Wonka."
"Wonderful!" Willy said, shifting his cane up in his hand and using it to point at the clock. "And is that the time?" he chuckled in an amiable, sing-song voice. "I believe your mother would be extremely displeased if I made you late for dinner?" he added with a wink, giving Charlie a gentle prod with his cane.
While he was admittedly young, it didn't mean that Charlie wasn't able to take a hint. He hurried off to the suite in which his family stayed, and settled down to a delicious dinner of roast chicken and onion soup, which he could not thoroughly enjoy as much as he normally would, because he was still very much confused by his brief conversation with Mr. Wonka. After dinner, as he helped his mother do the dishes, the question bubbled yet again to the surface – and his mother was a woman, so, as far as Charlie could wager, she would know the situation better than anyone.
"Ma?" he said hesitantly. "Why aren't Miss Cabot and Mister Wonka in love with one another?"
Mrs. Bucket nearly dropped her dishtowel into the soapy water when she heard Charlie's question, and gave him a somewhat confused smile. "Well, that's adult business," she began with a small laugh. "But how are you so sure that they aren't?"
"Because Mr. Wonka told me so," Charlie said resolutely, and Mrs. Bucket knew that her son idolized Willy so much, he took everything his mentor said as the absolute truth.
"When it comes to these things, at least," she said carefully, "You can't always believe everything that one tells you about themselves – it's ourselves that we often know the very least about."
Charlie blinked at his mother questioningly, as though her answer had been unsatisfactory, and indeed unfathomable. "You mean to say," he began slowly, "that Mr. Wonka lied to me?"
"Not at all, Charlie," Mrs. Bucket said patiently, placing her washing things down and sitting at the empty dinner table, gesturing for her son to take a seat as well. "Perhaps they haven't been around one another long enough for him to realize it."
"Well, I think they're being very stubborn," Charlie said simply, resting an elbow on the table, and laying his chin on his ha, brow furrowing. He looked up, however, when he heard the bedroom door open, and saw Grandpa Joe walk in, presumably to get himself a glass of water. The old man looked around, wondering what was going on, and Mrs. Bucket merely gave him a knowing smile, excusing herself to go to bed – perhaps, she thought, Charlie's favorite grandfather would be able to explain things to him in a way that a young boy could understand. Once his mother was out of the room and Grandpa Joe had taken her seat, Charlie leaned over towards him. "I think Mr. Wonka is in love with Alyssa," he said.
Grandpa Joe gave a mirthful, throaty laugh that made his eyes squint, and his bushy mustache twitch. "Well, isn't it obvious?"
"But Mr. Wonka said it wasn't true," Charlie said, his head cocking to one side.
Grandpa Joe leaned over towards Charlie, as if he was going to tell him a secret. "Mr. Wonka may be an honest man," he laughed, "but this time, he's lying through his teeth, Charlie."
"Ma said he just hasn't seen it yet," Charlie reasoned, trying to put together both what his mother had said earlier, and what Grandpa Joe was telling him now. "But Alyssa's real smart, I bet she's figured it out. I ought to invite her in for dinner."
Grandpa Joe's forehead creased at the thought – Charlie really, truly believed that the solution was so simple, but Grandpa Joe saw the situation for what it was. "Mr. Wonka's afraid of it." He said simply.
Charlie went quiet for a moment – fear and Mr. Wonka seemed antonymous to him, because the Willy Wonka he knew feared nothing. The Willy Wonka he knew had nothing to fear, because this was his world, and he was perfectly in control. "Then maybe," he said, the lilt in his voice reflecting the running of his thoughts, "Alyssa can help figure out a way for him not to be.
A smile crossed Grandpa Joe's face, one that showed through his moustache. "Charlie, that's a wonderful idea."
Meanwhile, back at the ice cream parlour, Shay was still holding down the fort – this is what she got, she concluded, from telling her business partner to take her time while she was away. Whether she was right or not, she could only imagine what her friend and co-owner was up to that kept her away for so long.
"But Shay!" whined Kellie, one of the shop's most faithful patrons, a young girl of eight with angelic blue eyes. Kellie was attached very much to Alyssa, and always had been. She never went to any other ice cream parlor, and was in turn a very evout lover of Wonka chocolates; with her innocent smile and playful heart, Willy Wonka himself would have absolutely adored her. "Where's Miss Alyssa?"
"Oh, don't be such a gossip!" her older sister chided, peering at her from over the newspaper she was reading. She looked up at Shay and rolled her eyes. "She makes a scandal of everything, honestly," she said with a sarcastic laugh, jabbing her manicured thumb towards her sister.
Kellie, however, was unfazed by her sister's lack of enthusiasm. "Is it true what Billy said you told him?" she squealed excitedly, talking over her sister's bored, teenage drone. "Is Miss Alyssa in Willy Wonka's factory? He took her away with him, and they –"
"Oh, big deal!" her sister interrupted, standing up and flopping her newspaper down on the counter. Kellie looked terrified at her sister's irritated, jaded outburst. "Nobody older than twelve eats Wonkas after that Golden Ticket fiasco – cost people a truckload of jobs. C'mon, Kellie," she said, taking her sister by the arm and bringing her outside.
Shay had been the bystander in all of this, and now that there were no more customers, she picked up the newspaper the older girl had left behind, glancing at the headline. Her jaw dropped.
FALL OF WONKA STOCKS SUGGESTS THE END OF AN ERA
Their business, Shay knew, depended solely on Wonka's business, and if Wonka faltered, then the fate of this parlor would crumble in an instant.
In a flurry of panic, Shay ran over to the phone, calling a phone number that connected to an office phone in the Wonka factory that was rarely, if ever, answer. As the monotonous ring reached her ears, she began muttering to herself feverishly.
"Please, Alyssa," she muttered, drumming her hands nervously. "We're digging ourselves into a whole – this place is my baby too…"
And so, she continued calling, met with only the same ringing sound every time.
A/N's
Sorry about the delay! School's been absolutely insane lately, but I have a bit more time on my hands now that I'm settled. Just in time, too! I'll try not to keep you hanging too long – reviews are always encouraging. Hee! Cheers!