At seven o'clock sharp, Veronica arrived at the front gate of the Wonka candy factory, still reeling from her dreams, lugging her suitcase along. The gates opened without anyone ever coming to them, and she walked inside uncertainly. She managed to arrive at the massive front doors, suitcase clunking against each stair, and knocked. Two Oompa Loompas answered the door, struggled with her suitcase for a few moments, rather comically, in Veronica's estimation, before several more of the little men arrived and, together, they lugged her bag away, beckoning for Veronica to follow. They took her to a room at the end of a long, mirrored hall. Inside the room, a great, dusty and decrepit black licorice table, and several corresponding, spindly black licorice chairs stood shoved haphazardly against a wall. A rather uncomfortable looking bed had been set up here hurriedly, Veronica assumed at Charlie's orders. The bed stood beside an enormous fireplace, the ashes in the grate mingled with dust. The room was very familiar to Veronica for some reason, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Everything in the room, save for the bed, was covered in a film of dust that suggested a: that Mr. Wonka had not been here in a very long time, and b: that her arrival was, for the most part, very hurried and very secret. The room was actually quite frightening to Veronica, but she sat down on the bed, which creaked and shifted unpleasantly, and allowed the Oompa Loompas to leave her. It wasn't long before Charlie came in.
"I'm sorry, but this was the only room I could find that didn't seem to have another use."
"It's fine, Charlie." Veronica lied, smiling.
"Mr. Wonka is still asleep. I'm worried about him, Miss Veronica. He never sleeps this late. He's always at breakfast, but now it's time for me to leave for school, and he's still asleep. The Oompa Loompas won't wake him… they seem to think it's bad luck to wake a person when he's sleeping."
"Poppycock. I'll wake him myself. Where does he sleep?"
"Try the great glass elevator. It has a button for every room." Was all Charlie could say.
"Well, run off to school then. I'll give Mr. Wonka the shock of his life." Veronica grinned devilishly. Charlie laughed out loud before leaving hurriedly, his bookbag already slung over one shoulder.
Veronica was left to find the great glass elevator. She wandered down the mirrored hall and it wasn't long before she was lost. She managed to find her way into Wonka's paradise twice, stopping for one of those delicious candied fruits on her way out. But after nearly twenty minutes, she was no closer to finding the elevator than she was to figuring out how to call an Oompa Loompa and ask. Finally, she ran into a woman with short, dark brown hair and rather bad teeth.
"Excuse me, but can you tell me where the elevator is?" Veronica asked breathlessly.
"Of course." Said the woman. "You must be Veronica. Wonderful to meet you. See those doors at the end of the hall?" She pointed. "Go through those doors, then make a left. And be careful. Make sure the doors have opened all the way before you step inside. My husband got a nasty bump on his head the first time he tried to use it himself…"
"Thank you." Veronica said, and hurried off.
Five minutes later, she found herself screaming at the top of her lungs as the great glass elevator rocketed through its complicated maze of cables, searching for its creator's room. As it shuddered to a halt, Veronica practically crawled from the elevator, knees like jelly. She found herself in a very different room than the rest of the factory. It was very small and very dark, and quite cold, compared to the other rooms. Her eyes scanned the room, adjusting to the darkness, and then she saw him. He was curled on a tiny bed in the corner, one that looked even more uncomfortable than the one Charlie had found for her. Conversely, he was curled under a thick purple velvet comforter. His hat rested on the bedpost, and a pair of purple gloves was laid over the headboard. Veronica gazed on this most unusual arrangement for a moment, then walked up to the bed, crouched down, and stared into the chocolatier's closed and sleeping eyes. Moments later, as if he knew he were being watched, his eyes flew open on the darkness, and he gasped and flew off the other side of the bed like a frightened cat.
"Morning, Mr. Wonka." Veronica said brightly, standing up.
"Don't you know it's bad luck to wake a person when he's sleeping?" Wonka gasped, clutching at his chest, thin frame heaving.
"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here?"
Wonka opened his mouth to reply, but Veronica didn't give him the chance.
"Charlie and I thought it would be a good idea if I hung around for awhile and tried to give your lagging business a jump start. I hear you've been hitting the doldrums this last week or so. So… here I am! What are you going to do with me?" This last sentence escaped Veronica before she realized it, and in hindsight seemed a bit inappropriate seeing as she was, in fact, standing in the middle of the candymaker's bedroom, but this fact slipped clear over Wonka's head as he pulled on his gloves and adjusted his hat, eyes still as wide as dinner plates, and breath still coming in gasps.
"Well… ummm… you can go somewhere else and keep yourself busy. Obviously, I need to dress." Wonka said sharply. Veronica realized for the first time that she had never seen him in anything other than the wine colored coat and heeled boots. She looked at him a moment, realizing that his pajamas consisted of a rather hideous purple paisley material. She shivered and allowed him to shoo her out. It wasn't long before he joined her, wearing his usual garb and appearing very much more collected.
"Well, if you're here to help me, the first thing you can do is help me put away some of Mrs. Bucket's delicious breakfast. I'm starving!" He said, considerably more brightly, and strode on toward the elevator. Veronica looked at the little glass box queasily for a moment, then took a deep breath and stepped inside.
Once again she found herself screaming at the top of her lungs, and rapidly growing hoarse. She was crumpled on the floor, clutching at Wonka's ankles, eyes squeezed as tightly shut as she could get them. The elevator zoomed through yet another maze of cables, high empty spaces, and tunnels so narrow it was doubtful the box could fit through them upon approach. Willy Wonka was, himself, standing as straight as a board, and barely even wavering as the elevator jumped from cable to cable, dropping over a hundred feet, then catching another cable and zooming straight back up again. Veronica was sliding across the floor, whimpering and holding onto the candymaker's ankles with a deathgrip. Finally, the ride ended, and Wonka looked down at Veronica, who had turned a slightly unattractive shade of green.
"Wasn't that a rush?" He was on the verge of giggling again.
"Nooo…" Veronica moaned.
"No? Then you haven't had enough of a ride! We can do it again…"
"NO!" Veronica stood bolt upright and strode out of the elevator.
"Oh, well, you're no fun." Wonka pouted, following her.
The two made their way to the little house in the center of paradise. Wonka conducted Veronica inside with a slight flourish and introduced her to the rest of the family. He then proceeded to apologize for being so late to breakfast, and quite cheerfully offered to personally wash the dishes afterward as penance. Mrs. Bucket assured him that this was unnecessary and seated them at once.
"So what has you in such a good mood this morning, Mr. Wonka?" Mr. Bucket asked. He had already donned his work uniform and seemed to be on the way out the door.
"Well, everyone always says the best kind of prize is a surprise, and boy, did I get one this morning!"
The Buckets all looked knowingly at each other. This action escaped Wonka completely, but Veronica noticed, and turned a slight shade of pink, a definite improvement from the green of a few minutes ago.
"Aren't you going to eat? Dig in! I can't have you hungry and nibbling at my candy all day long!" Wonka said, between mouthfuls of eggs and potatoes. Veronica tucked into the food before her in earnest. It was definitely a better breakfast than she had had in years.
"This is wonderful, thank you." She smiled at Mrs. Bucket. "I'm afraid I can't even boil water without burning it."
"I'm glad you like it. You're welcome here any time."
Wonka had finished before Veronica had even started on her toast. It wasn't long before he was literally shooing her out the door. She drained a glass of orange juice, said a hurried thank you and goodbye to the Buckets, and followed the eccentric candyman, who had now left her behind.
"How are we going to get anything done if you don't move those feet? We have so much to do! Speaking of, you're very lucky to have found me this morning. I'm usually so busy inventing new things that I just fall asleep wherever I drop!"
Veronica knew the truth of the matter was that Wonka had been utterly unable to think up anything new in at least the past week, but she said nothing. He wandered on, practically running, a wide grin spreading across his face, this one unforced and very different from what Veronica had seen him wear in the past. It flattered him.
"Come now! I haven't got all day, we need to stop off in the Hall of Holidays, in case you haven't noticed, we are very behind here, and St. Patrick's Day is coming up! We need to think up something quick, so I have time to perfect it!"
It was then that something struck Veronica. It was natural for Wonka to be focusing on a holiday a little under two months in the future, but he had utterly failed to mention his plans for the one that was a little less than a week away.
"Mr. Wonka..? Speaking of holidays, today is February 10th… Are you sure everything is set for Valentine 's Day?"
"Of course I am." He said tartly. "You didn't need to bring that up, did you? All the chocolate is already packed up and ready to send out. You can go in the room of roses if you want to, but all the bushes are bare now."
"I just wanted to know. Have you… uhh… any plans for the day?" Veronica said meekly.
"Of course I have plans. So do you." Wonka said, once again bright and cheerful. "We're gonna be working till our brains fry on my new candy for St. Patrick's Day!"
"That isn't what I meant, and you know it."
"I do?"
"Please don't play that game with me."
"What game?" He was grinning an evil grin, like a little boy who had done something wrong, and was having fun leading his mother on a wild goose chase to discover what it was.
"You're being childish because you don't have a Valentine this year, just like every year. And so you're going to act like a little brat who thinks the world revolves around him and deny the existence of a holiday to the extent that you don't even let me enjoy myself."
"Poppycock. I didn't say you couldn't enjoy yourself. I just said you would be working."
"Is there anything I can do to persuade you to behave otherwise?" Veronica asked, wishing she hadn't left the stiletto heels in her suitcase.
"Psh… like what?" Wonka asked, doubtfully.
"Would you be my Valentine?" Veronica asked, smiling shyly.
"BOY, WOULD I!"
"Ahh… I thought you didn't believe in Valentine's Day." Veronica grinned.
"I don't."
"Then, sorry, but I can't be your Valentine after all. I'll ask one of the Oompa Loompas."
And Veronica didn't say another word on the subject. Despite repeated protests and apologies, she stood firm, grinning, but with her mouth clamped tightly shut, avoiding eye contact with the chocolatier.
"VERONICA, PLEASE? PLEASE? PLEEEASEEE? I'M SORRY! I SAID I WAS SORRY!" He whined, then stood as straight as possible so that, with the hat, he appeared to be towering over Veronica, and cleared his throat. "VERONICA LIGHTFOOT, WE HAVE WORK TO DO." And then hunched back up, whining. "YOU'RE WASTING TIIIME…"
Veronica just grinned. Wonka turned from her, walked twenty feet down the hallway, seething, then came running back. He stopped half way, stiffly, looked very confused and very angry for a moment, turned around to walk away again, and finally turned again and stomped back to Veronica. The expression he then assumed was of extremely forced calm.
"Miss Lightfoot? Will you please accompany me? We have work to do now. I don't care if you talk to me or not, but will you just come ON?" He had begun sweetly, but his rapidly dissolving patience gave way and he ended very loudly and very grumpily. Veronica gestured for him to lead the way, and he did so, not saying a word. Veronica noticed that he was shaking. He was actually shaking with frustration! This made her grin broaden very slightly. Eventually her silence would drive him mad. She chuckled inwardly at this… as if he wasn't mad already. Finally, he spun around, stared at her maddening grin for a moment, then let his face fall utterly expressionless. He reached out a gloved hand and brushed a stray hair from her face, then got down on his knees.
"Veronica Whatever-your-middle-name-is Lightfoot, would you please do me the honor of being my Valentine?" And it was completely sincere.
"It's Ellen. And yes." Veronica smiled.
"Oh good. Now you're at least speaking to me again. Now come on. We have work to do." And Wonka stood up, brushed off the knees of his trousers, (Despite the fact that there was nothing on them in the first place.) and led Veronica off toward the St. Patrick's Day room.