Author's Note: I know, that was an evil place to leave it for so long!
The elevator dinged.
The doors slid open and Charlie blinked uncertainly.
Mr. Wonka and Ms. McCaine were facing each other from only a few inches apart, both looking startled. Well, Mr. Wonka looked merely a little surprised, but Ms. McCaine was gaping at him like a fish out of water. Her cheeks were flushed a brilliant pink. It was almost as if they'd been-
Mr. Wonka looked at Charlie, raising an eyebrow as if he knew what Charlie was thinking, and Charlie felt his cheeks go as red as Ms. McCaine's. He cleared his throat awkwardly, and Ms. McCaine jumped and turned her wide-eyed stare on him. She looked so shocked that Charlie was suddenly worried.
"Are...are you alright, Ms. McCaine?" he asked tentatively.
A gong sounded before she could answer, causing Ms. McCaine to jump again. Charlie barely stopped himself from imitating the motion; her anxious reactions were putting him on edge.
Mr. Wonka merely frowned. "The doorbell? Charlie, are we expecting anyone?"
Charlie shook his head. "No, sir. Today was cleared for the interviews and tour."
"Well," Mr. Wonka said, straightening his coat and hat, "I'll attend to that. Please, continue. Ms. McCaine." He nodded farewell to her with a smile that crinkled the edges of his eyes. She watched him go without saying a word.
"Ms. McCaine?" Charlie asked again.
She blinked at him, then blushed even more. "I'm sorry! I'm fine!" She stepped quickly out of the elevator and glanced around. "Where are the others?"
"This way, please. I left them in the Oompa Loompa village." Charlie took the lead, suddenly anxious. The Oompa Loompas were great workers, but he wasn't sure they understood that the guests shouldn't be allowed to explore too far without him.
He glanced back at Ms. McCaine as they hurried down the hall. She was keeping pace with him easily, but looked distracted, her gaze unfocused. "Mr. Wonka didn't tell me what happened. Are you sure you're alright?"
She nodded, waving a hand dismissively. "Mr. Wonka and your mother took good care of me. I'm sorry to have worried you. But Charlie," she placed a hand on his arm, stopping him for a moment. "I'm sorry, Mr. Bucket. You should know that Ms. Weston is dangerous."
In the midst of opening his mouth to assure her that he didn't mind her using his given name, Charlie froze. "Dangerous?" he asked.
"I think Mr. Wonka was going to deal with her, but since he's been called away...please be careful until he can handle the matter. I'll help as well, and I'm sure the other girls will too." She patted his hand reassuringly and Charlie could only nod dumbly. What on earth had happened?
In spite of her brave words, Charlie felt her grow more and more tense as they neared the village. With her hand still gripping his arm, he gave himself an internal shake, reminding himself that he was Mr. Wonka's heir and it was his job to see that their guests were comfortable. He found himself patting her hand in the same fashion that she had patted his moments before. She grimaced and shot him a wry smile, which Charlie returned.
"Here we go then," he murmured to her. He noticed he wasn't the only one to take a deep calming breath as they rounded the last bend.
An Oompa Loompa met Willy on his way to the front of the factory, which was worrisome. If it had been a normal delivery, the Oompa Loompa would have been able to handle it without coming in search of the factory's master. The fact that he had not answered the door meant that the visitor was not of the usual sort that the Oompa Loompas had been trained to handle.
Hurrying onwards, Willy reached the door and threw it open.
A short, rotund man stood on the doorstep with two police officers.
Willy was momentarily taken aback to find them on the doorstep rather than at the gate, but then realized that the police presence explained that. Even if Oompa Loompas wouldn't open the door, they would know to let a police officer through the gate.
"Gentlemen," Willy greeted with forced nonchalance.
The man stepped forward, clearly fuming. "You," he snarled. "Where. Is. My. Wife?"
Willy stared at him, caught off guard by the unexpected question. "I beg your pardon?" he asked, dumbfounded.
"MY WIFE!" the man roared. One of the police officers shifted as if to restrain him and the other gave Willy an apologetic grimace, though he noticed that it prevented neither of them from surreptitiously trying to glance inside.
Willy settled himself more firmly in the doorway. "And you are, sir?"
"Frank Aranack! Now where is she?"
Willy glanced to the side and signaled the Oompa Loompa, who was standing out of sight. The small man took off at a run. "Ah, of course. Please come in, sirs."
As he stepped aside, the three men crowded through the door and looked around with quick glances, Mr. Aranack plainly expecting his wife to appear at once and the officers trying to take in as much of the secretive factory as they could. Willy couldn't help but smirk a little.
"This way, gentlemen." He gestured toward his office and led the way. "I'm having Ms.- I apologize, Mrs. Aranack brought up. Please have a seat." He gestured to the waiting area outside his office door.
No one sat.
Willy sighed.
The officers took up positions on either side of the row of chairs, trying to look official, but Willy saw their eyes darting around as they continued to take in the surroundings.
Mr. Aranack crossed immediately to the neat row of coats and hats that hung on one wall. "This is hers!" he declared, grabbing at a lavender wrap. The hook stubbornly refused to relinquish it, even when the man pried at the brass fingers. "What kind of a joke is this?" he spluttered.
"Ah, so sorry," Willy spoke up. "It will only return an item to the person who left it." Mr. Aranack stared at him. "They're very well trained against theft, or any sort of accidental mix-up."
One of the police officers snickered, then quickly cleared his throat and fell silent at Mr. Aranack's glare. Releasing the wrap with a final tug, the man stalked toward Willy, shaking a finger angrily. "Now see here, Mr. Wonka-"
Someone gasped. "Frank?"
Mrs. Aranack stood in the doorway, Charlie peering anxiously over her shoulder.
Mr. Aranack made a beeline for his wife, finger still raised, his attention diverted with almost comical abruptness. "Now see here, Selda-" he began, but she slapped his hand.
"Now see here, Frank," she started. "I'll do what I please and you can't stop me. This is my chance to make a difference for all those poor people who are being poisoned by unhealthy foods. You know how important this is to me and-"
"Now see here, Selda," her husband began again, louder this time. "I don't care what you think about chocolate but you are not taking a job here and that's final. I won't stand for it. You are my wife and-"
"Now see-" she started again, when Willy interrupted.
"The position is no longer available."
Silence fell as everyone, including Charlie, stared at him. He knew his voice was cold, but he could not pretend to be cordial in the wake of this chaotic invasion of his factory, his home.
"Please take your argument elsewhere. Charlie, see them out."
Without another word, he turned his back on the couple, entered his office, and shut the door.
Tossing his hat on his half desk, he sank into his half chair with a frustrated sigh. He had approached this idea with a bit of curiosity and amusement at first, but it was turning out to be rather exhaustingly terrible. Even more dramatic than his first experience with inviting guests into his factory.
A tap sounded on the door and then Charlie poked his head inside. "They're gone," the boy confirmed at Willy's questioning glance. "What was all that about?"
Willy only shook his head. "I can only guess that the gentleman took exception to his wife applying for the position, especially considering the rumours surrounding it."
Charlie looked at the floor, shuffling his feet. "I'm sorry, I just...did you mean what you said? About the position not being available? Should I...should I cancel the rest of the tour?"
Willy looked away, staring at his hat for long moments. He wanted eagerly to say yes, and yet…
"No," he said at last, trying to keep the weariness from his voice. Charlie perked up and Willy couldn't help but give him a small smile. "We should rejoin them."
"You're still coming? Even after…" Charlie gulped, eyeing his mentor nervously. Willy realized he was frowning.
"Especially after," he confirmed, quickly filling him in on the details of Ms. Weston's attack. His voice trailed off suddenly. "Charlie," he asked slowly. "Who is supervising the ladies right now?"
Charlie stiffened in realization. "Only the Oompa Loompas," he confirmed, face ashen. "They don't know...I didn't know…" He turned abruptly, rushing from the room. Willy wasted not a moment in following.
They had to get the full story from the Oompa Loompas. Or rather, Mr. Wonka did, then relayed it to Charlie.
When it came to English, the Oompa Loompas came in two varieties: those that spoke hardly any, and those that delighted in it so much that they couldn't speak without turning everything into a rhyme or a poem or a lyric. Left to their own devices, they might have launched a full-scale musical production to explain what had happened in Charlie and Mr. Wonka's absence, but thankfully Mr. Wonka was able to quickly converse with them in their native tongue instead.
"What are they saying?" Ms. Stolp whispered to Charlie. She and Amalda huddled around Charlie, eyeing Mr. Wonka and the Oompa Loompas nervously. They both had chocolate on their faces and in their hair, but looked otherwise unscathed.
A short distance away sat a lumpy brown blob that periodically sighed disconsolately. The blog-person was so covered in chocolate that it was impossible to make out any distinguishing characteristics.
Behind the blob-person was a tall thin tree. In its uppermost branches, Ms. Weston fumed silently. She had finally stopped screaming.
In response to Ms. Stolp's question, Charlie shook his head. "I don't speak the language. Not yet, anyway." Not one of the Oompa Loompas had any chocolate on them, he noted, though several seemed a little put out. He couldn't see Mr. Wonka's expression to tell if his mentor was upset, but the Oompa Loompas' explanation certainly seemed to be complex, with a lot of enthusiastic gestures and overlapping voices.
At last the conversation ended and the Oompa Loompas moved away quickly. Mr. Wonka spun on his heel and sought out Charlie, who was relieved to see the amused twinkle in the other man's eyes. Before he could relax, however, Mr. Wonka noticed the two women standing with Charlie. He took in the others as well, one a chocolate lump, one up a tree, and his expression hardened.
"Let me see if I have this straight," Mr. Wonka drawled, planting his cane in front of him as he took in the waiting group. "After my workers generously decided to give you a tour of their village, you, Ms. Lauper," he nodded to the blob-person, "insisted on interrogating them about their work conditions and job satisfaction, and you, Ms. Stolp, decided to sample some of the freshly baked delicacies that were sitting out. Am I correct so far?"
"Nothing wrong with wanting to know more about the place you're going to run...er, work," the blob-person grumbled.
Ms. Stolp nodded, but looked confused. "Yes, but I don't see how-"
"What you failed to understand," Mr. Wonka interrupted, his voice rising to drown out their words, "is that the people you so rudely approached do not merely work in my factory. They live here as well, and it is their home you are currently standing in, not their workplace." He glanced at the blob. "They don't speak much English, Ms. Lapuer. They thought you were asking them if they were unhappy with their home life and wanted to leave their families."
"Why, I-" the blob began, but Mr. Wonka had already turned away.
"And you, Ms. Stolp! Just because food is sitting out does not mean that it's been prepared for you especially! Those chocolates were for a child's birthday party!" Ms. Stolp's mouth dropped open and splotches of red appeared on her cheeks.
Charlie actually felt a bit sorry for her. "I'm...sure they didn't mean any harm," he stammered.
"Wrong!" Mr. Wonka barked, "For when the Oompa Loompas tried to separate Ms. Stolp from the tray of chocolates, what did she do? Did she let them go and apologize? No, she grabbed the tray and fought to keep them for herself."
Charlie gave her an incredulous look, the image of the portly Ms. Stolp and a young Oompa Loompa child fighting over a tray of candies playing out in his mind. Seeing his look, she said faintly, "They...they are stronger than they look."
"And when they finally let go, the chocolates went flying," Mr. Wonka continued.
"That's how we got them on us," Amalda murmured quietly. He noticed that she too looked abashed. "I was just trying to stop them from fighting."
"And when the others, already upset by Ms. Lauper's questions, saw food flying through the air, they decided that was exactly the right response to such rude visitors." Everyone turned to look at Ms. Lauper. The lumpy chocolate mass shuddered, but she seemed unable to move from her position on the ground.
"They...really keep a lot of chocolate on hand...don't they?" Amalda asked faintly.
"Oh yes," Mr. Wonka said, his tone somehow indicating very clearly that he thought Ms. Lauper got exactly what she deserved.
A small group of Oompa Loompas appeared with a pallet. The hardening pile of chocolate was only making Ms. Lauper's plight more difficult and the Oompa Loompas were maneuvered her onto the pallet with ease.
"What will they do with her?" Ms. Stolp asked.
Mr. Wonka gave an eloquent shrug. "Clean her up, send her on her way." He offered Ms. Stolp a handkerchief with a flourish, which she gratefully accepted and began dabbing the chocolate from her face.
Charlie frowned. "Do you mean they'll really help her get clean, or they'll just...drop her in the lake?" In the act of fishing out a second handkerchief, Mr. Wonka shot Charlie a mischievous grin that only he and Amalda could see. Charlie suppressed a sigh.
As Amalda took the handkerchief from Mr. Wonka, she murmured her thanks and averted her eyes. Mr. Wonka watched her for a long moment before turning away.
Charlie eyed Amalda, noting that she seemed suddenly very uncomfortable, before he realized where Mr. Wonka was looking. He too turned to stare at the tree.
Ms. Weston was about fifteen feet up, arms and legs wrapped around a thick branch as she clung to it. Her delicate clothes were stained and torn, her hair in disarray. Until a few minutes ago, she had been screeching at them like an angry cat, demanding that she be rescued from her perilous perch and that she be granted protection from her attackers.
"So, er, how did she get up there?" he asked. "Everything was fine when I left with Ms. Aranack."
"Oh, that was my fault," Amalda said casually. Mr. Wonka and Charlie both turned to look at her in surprise. "When the fight started, she threw a rock at me. I guess she thought it would look enough like a piece of chocolate that no one would notice. She's got terrible aim though, so all it really did is get my attention." She shrugged a little. "So I threw one back."
"One? One?!" Ms. Weston shrieked. "Look at my clothes! I must have at least a dozen marks on my body. Oh Mr. Wonka, she's a savage wild woman!" Her voice rose in a wail.
Amalda bared her teeth in what might have been a grin. "I might've gotten a little bit carried away," she said, sounding not the least bit sorry. "I chased her around the tree a few times, then she went up it lickety split. You should have seen it!"
"Mr. Wonka, I demand that you get rid of that woman," Ms. Weston hissed. "I could have been killed!"
"Mm, people in glass houses," Mr. Wonka murmured.
Charlie tilted his head, confused. "What?" he asked.
"A proverb," he explained. "People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones."
"It means you shouldn't accuse people of what you might be guilty of yourself," Amalda said tartly.
Ms. Weston blanched, and then burst into tears. "Oh Mr. Wonka," she wailed, "how can you let her say such terrible things, when everyone here quite clearly saw her throwing rocks at me."
"Actually," Mr. Wonka said slowly, "no one here saw anything of the sort."
Charlie glanced at his mentor and then nodded as well. "That's true, they were all too busy with the chocolate."
Amalda seemed to feel guilty about the direction the conversation had taken. "But I did confess to it."
"So you both agree that you tried to kill her?" Mr. Wonka asked Amalda.
Ms. Stolp had clearly been flummoxed by the glass houses comment and was only now catching on to what the others were talking about. "Hold on," she said shakily. "If that's true, are you saying that previously Ms. Weston tried to kill Ms. McCaine?"
Silence fell.
"Ms. Weston," Mr. Wonka called. "Did you try to kill Ms. McCaine?"
"No!" she shrieked.
"And did she try to kill you?"
A long pause and a sniffle. "No."
"Ms. McCaine, did you try to kill Ms. Weston?"
Amalda shook her head. "No."
"And did she try to kill you?"
Charlie held his breath as Amalda hesitated. As Ms. McCaine had had her revenge, he could see that this was Mr. Wonka's way of forcing them to drop the matter. Ms. Weston had already given in, but would Amalda?
She stared at Mr. Wonka for long moments before she at last sighed, and said quietly, "No."
"Good, it's settled then." Mr. Wonka clapped his hands, turning away from Amalda immediately. Charlie saw her shoulders slump. "Now," he continued, addressing Ms. Weston. "Let's get you down from there."
Author's Note: I was promised cookies.