The room Wonka conducted Veronica into was hidden behind a bright green door. Inside, bright clumps of shamrock sprouted from every corner, and the whole space looked as if it had been brought directly out of the Irish countryside. Veronica didn't, at first, see the use of this room aside from its verdant beauty, but soon she noticed the Oompa Loompas. A few were staggering about, drunk, the rest were busy brewing and bottling various liquids.
"Let me guess, candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker?" Veronica said in a dry attempt at humor.
"No, silly. What would I want to do with nasty, icky alcohol? But you add sugar and… a few secret ingredients, and you have the most delicious filling for chocolate liqueurs… Perfect for St. Patrick's Day, don'tcha think?" Wonka smiled. "Of course, you try telling that to the Oompa Loompas… If I didn't keep an eye on them this time of year, we wouldn't have candy for St. Patrick's Day at all!" He gestured with his cane at one of the Oompas, staggering about with a large bottle, nearly as big as he was. Veronica giggled in spite of herself.
"Ok then, so why are we here?"
"We need to pick out one of these little beauties," Again gesturing with his cane, this time at neat rows of bottled liquids, all organized by type and bottling date, "So that we can come up with some sort of clever candy to lure the drunks away from their green beer. Now, THAT, is disgusting. I'll bet it tastes terrible. Why do they buy it?"
"Because it's St. Patrick's Day… Besides, not everyone gets buzzed on green beer. For some people it's an actual holiday…"
Wonka nodded. He strode over to the shelves of bottles and began perusing.
"In my opinion, the rum liqueurs taste the best, but it is St. Patrick's Day, so we usually sell more of the Irish Cream ones…" He was grabbing bottles off the shelves, clinking them together, until he was toting an armful of them. Then he handed several more to Veronica and conducted her from the room.
"Back to the inventing room!" Wonka said brightly.
"I thought you said 'one…'" Veronica moaned, attempting to balance seven bottles, all of different shapes and sizes.
"Don't drop 'em, or we'll have to go back for more, and there's no time for that." Wonka said, not looking back. He was walking on purposefully and seemed to have no trouble balancing at least 12 bottles, one of which was perfectly round, yet sitting completely still on the very top of the stack, unsupported. Even more incredulous, when they got to the inventing room, he shifted the lot of them into one arm and opened the door with the other, admitting Veronica and then following. As he allowed the bottles to roll, one by one, out of his arms and onto the table, he watched Veronica practically juggling hers, a stricken look on her face. He began giggling at her at once.
"You're really weird! Come on, it's easy." And he approached, and began unloading bottles until only three remained in Veronica's grasp. These she dropped gratefully onto the table and shook out her now exhausted arms.
"Tired already? We have work to do. You can rest later. Come up with anything yet?" He asked her with a smile.
"Come up with anything yet? Whaddya mean 'Come up with anything yet'?" Veronica sputtered. "You're the candyman, not me. I'm here for moral support!"
"Nonsense. You said you were here to help me come up with new candy, and that's what you're gonna do. No sense in not being honorable."
The two of them worked all day. Eventually they had settled on little shamrock shaped chocolates, filled with Irish Cream, that made your tongue turn green, and somehow, Veronica wasn't sure how, but somehow, eating one would cause you to speak in an Irish brogue for the rest of the day. That had been Wonka's brilliant addition, the only one he made, as a matter of fact, and it made Veronica feel very foolish indeed, that she couldn't come up with such a thing.
"The green and the chocolate and the cream is easy. But the challenge is that last part. Boy, are people sure gonna get a surprise! Of course… the Irish aren't going to notice anything, unless something goes wrong, but seeing as I don't employ any Irishmen here… I guess we'll never know!" Wonka was absolutely delighted, flitting about the table where they worked, throwing things into bowls, heating little batches of candy over tiny Bunsen burners, and attempting to handcraft just one little shamrock. Veronica watched him intently, but he had all but forgotten her. It was very late by now, and Veronica found herself unable to keep her eyes open and very hungry. In a surprise move, Wonka had reached into a pocket and tossed her a wrapped Original Wonka Bar, without looking up. Veronica munched on it serenely, then with a yawn, she sat down against a corner of the table and looked back up at the candymaker.
"I think… I'm jus' gonna close my eyes for a sec…" She mumbled, and was asleep before he could even respond.
For the first time in several hours, Wonka turned away from his work. A perfect, tiny chocolate shamrock lay on the table before him, delicately cooling on a small marble slab. He looked down at Veronica, sleeping soundly. She looked like an angel, as perfect as the candy on the table. He prodded her roughly with his cane.
"…Wha..?" Veronica scrambled to her feet. "Wha did you to tha for?" She groaned, half asleep.
"It's done. You're gonna miss it." Wonka whispered.
"Miss what?"
"Shh."
And so she turned and stared intently at the chocolate, imitating Wonka. She half expected the tiny morsel to sprout feathers and fly away, as excited as the man beside her looked. But, in the end, she realized that he was just watching it cool, content with its perfection, before he had to shatter that perception by testing it on someone. She sincerely hoped it wouldn't be her.
"Wanna try it?" He grinned at her, expectantly.
"No thanks… I don't eat chocolate after…" She looked at her watch. "Midnight."
"Nonsense. It's not gonna kill you!"
"It might!" Veronica said uncertainly. "How do you know?"
"Well, I would try it myself, I'm sure it's delicious, but if I end up speaking Mandarin Chinese, I can't very well instruct anyone on how to fix it, can I?" Wonka smiled. His logic stumped her. But before she could come to a decision on whether or not to try it, Wonka yawned broadly.
"Well, time for bed. Speaking of, where are you sleeping?"
"The room at the end of the mirrored hall."
"No you're not." Wonka said simply. "I wouldn't allow that. No one's been in there for years. How did you find it?"
"Charlie found it. He had the Oompa Loompas help him get it ready. Besides, I can't just up and move somewhere else. I'm exhausted, and my suitcase is in that room, I'd have to go there anyway."
"I'll have to speak to the Oompa Loompas… No, I won't allow you to sleep there. We'll just have to find you somewhere else." And he was off, leaving Veronica to chase after him again.
Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier...
In the end, the pair was standing in the room at the end of the mirrored hall. The boardroom. Wonka was staring emptily at the dust and ash-filled grate, Veronica sitting uneasily on the creaking bed, fearing it would fall apart. She had her suitcase in her lap.
"Mr. Wonka?"
"Wha-? Oh… Right. Who knew the Oompa Loompas went to bed before I do…" It wasn't really a question, but it was clear that Wonka wasn't exactly living in the present now anyway.
"What was this room?"
"This was the meeting room for my board of directors. I never liked them much anyway; it didn't bother me to have to fire them…" Wonka said tonelessly, still staring into the huge fireplace.
"I can camp out in a hallway somewhere, really. If you don't want me in here… I can understand why." And suddenly it struck her that she had seen him in here before. But when? A dream…
"You can say that again." He replied. And with that, he shuffled out of the room, leaving Veronica to catch up, this time lugging her heavy bag and entirely spent.
He walked, leaning on his cane and dragging his feet, all the way out of the mirrored hall, arriving again in a more brightly lit portion of the factory. Veronica saw, incredulously, that the elevator had stood just to her right. She sighed and set down her bag.
"Listen, Mr. Wonka, can I just crash here? You don't seem to understand that I'm exhausted."
"Won't that be uncomfortable?" He asked.
"Well, yes, but right now I don't care." Veronica sighed.
"Well, I do. Give me your suitcase." He instructed. Veronica noticed that he looked considerably more alive than he had moments ago in the mirrored hall. She handed him the bag, watched him struggle with it for a moment, then straighten up, adjusting his hat.
"You really need to get wheels on that thing. I'll have an Oompa Loompa take care of it in the morning." He said with a smile.
"Yes, thank you, but…" She said flatly.
"You need sleep, yes, you've said that already." Wonka stood, staring at the elevator doors for a moment, thinking. "But where to put you… I know! You can take my room; I'll find somewhere else to go. To tell the truth, I usually just fall asleep wherever I crash…"
Veronica noticed the repetitive nature of this last remark, but was too tired to say anything.
"I can't do that." She said. "But if you'll just leave me here, I'm sure I'll be fine."
"No." He said simply.
"Well, Mr. Wonka, what is your brilliant plan then? This is a one-bedroom mansion, and I'm not letting you give up your own room. Not even for a guest, and not even for a week."
"Slumber party?" He suggested.
"I give up!" Veronica sighed. She snatched her bag back from the chocolatier, and whipped out a small travel pillow, which she promptly collapsed onto the floor with. She was asleep before Wonka had even truly figured out what happened.