"Did you miss me, Mr. Wonka?"
Those were the first words the attractive young woman spoke after the barged into the office, causing Willy to jump up in his chair and fling important candy-blueprints. Without waiting for him to reply, she strode up to his desk in her very expensive white high-heeled shoes and placed her gloved hands upon it.
Willy gaped at her, open-mouthed.
"Don't you remember me?" She asked him, though she knew he did. "It's Veruca. Veruca Salt."
The Chocolatier fixed upon her the same look he had once used to gaze at a different little girl as he attempted to get his plans back in order.
"How nice. I don't care!" He smiled widely. "Get out."
Veruca could not help but let a small grin creep along her face at the sound of the edge in Willy's voice. No matter how much more personable he had become in the past few years due to his newfound family, he would always be the same old forever-young Willy Wonka as he was when she first met him – always trying to hide his discomfort and annoyance behind sarcasm and toothy grins.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Willy. May I call you Willy?" Veruca casually dropped into the chair opposite Willy, causing an expression of absolute mortification to take over his face.
"No, little girl," he said, regaining his composure. "No you can't."
"That's precisely what I want to speak with you about, Willy," Veruca said, ignoring the way the corner of his mouth twitched slightly when she called him by his first name. "In case you can't tell, I'm not a little girl anymore." She traced a long, gloved finger over the letters of the 'WILLY WONKA' name tag that was placed carefully at the front of the desk. "And well, daddy and I were talking, and we thought...maybe it's about time for me to get married."
Now the twitch that seized at the corner of Willy's mouth was impossible to miss.
"And what does that have to do with me?" His voice was so low and uncharacteristically harsh it was almost a hiss.
"Well," Veruca said, flirtatiously batting her eyelashes, "daddy thinks it would be in the best interest of the family fortune if I were to...well, if I were to marry you."
Willy Wonka couldn't deny it – that was what he'd been expecting her to say. Despite that, he couldn't help but feel the world was crashing around him. For a second he lost himself in his imagination, where the room actually did shatter around him. By the time it was over, Veruca was covered in a large pile of plaster and Willy was virtually unharmed. Though this vision was quite pleasing, Willy knew it was time to shake himself back into reality.
The Chocolatier giggled, smiling wide and showing off his perfect teeth; but through his eyes, an entirely different emotion was conveyed.
"Surely you'll think about it, Willy."
"Don't call me Shirley, squirrel-nut-grabber!"
Veruca's face fell a little. "Willy...it's been eight years. Surely you don't think I'm still like that."
Willy crossed his arms stubbornly. "So tell me, Miss Foot-Wart, how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me Shirley and leave my office before you do it?" Suddenly, his eyes widened, and he gave up, at least for that minute, on trying to reorganize his papers.. "Wait a minute...how did you even get in here!"
Veruca crossed her legs daintily, never lifting her smug-eyed gaze from Willy's generally amethyst-cold one. "I talked to your protégée, Charlie Bucket, through the speaker at the door. I told him of my business and it seems he understands the importance."
At this point, Willy was blown over by all the emotions toiling in the room. He gripped his candy-filled cane in one hand and rose to his feet, towering over the petite Veruca Salt.
"Listen to me, little girl...Charlie may be my assistant, but at present, this is still my chocolate factory. And I don't want your grubby little shoes – " He tapped at them with his cane. " – setting foot inside of it." He giggled and cocked his head to the side. "Now I'd appreciate it if you'd haul your selfish, gold-digging little butt out of my office."
Veruca, seemingly not at all phased, rose to her feet with all the grace she could muster. "Very well, Mr. Wonka. But I do advise you to think my offer over. People change over the years, you know." She let her eyes wander over him. "Well...some people at least." With that, she retrieved a card from inside her dress' pocket and handed it to the astounded Chocolatier. As the young Miss Salt left the chocolate factory, Willy, astonished and visibly frightened, looked down at the phone number he held in his hand.
Once again, Willy Wonka tossed and turned around in his bed, which he usually found very comfortable. It was almost as if part of the horrid little girl had clung to him after she left and followed him to bed, poisoning the sheets the minute his body touched them. There was no way he would be getting any rest tonight, and he knew it. Giving in to that fact, he flopped around onto his back and gazed at white linoleum ceiling. You know, he thought to himself, compared to the rest of my factory, this room is actually kind of boring. So what if I'm hardly ever in it? I should get to work on fixing it up straight away. Oh yes, no room in my mind for anything else except thinking about how to touch up my bedroom...
He gasped and sat up straight in bed as a sudden and frightening image of the wretched child snuggled up against him in the bed flashed through his mind. For a moment his stomach twisted, and he thought for sure he would become sick. Luckily he was able to fight the bile rising in his throat and escape the sickness before it overwhelmed him. Finally, with the horrifying image gone, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier, collapsed back into his bed in a cold sweat, and fell asleep.