I do not own anything from Charlie and the Chocolate factory. All rights and likenesses belong to Roald Dahl, Johnny Depp and Tim Burton. I wouldn't mind a few Oompa Loompas though to help out around the house in exchange for obscene amounts of Nutella though. – Stealth Phoenix
Chapter 4
The phone rang sporadically over the course of the next month.
When it wasn't creditors threatening her with financial ruin, it was the electric company calling her one final time to let her know her power was going to be cut off. Good thing the weather was still warm and she had always preferred candles over florescent lights. It wasn't going to be a trial for now – except for showering in the morning with brutally cold water.
The last straw was selling her car to try and pay for groceries and rent. The car had been a high school graduation gift. It was the last gift of love from her parents before Reggie had come out of the closet. Her parents had cut off contact with him in protest – and she had returned the favor out of love and loyalty for her brother and what she felt was right. The last terse exchange with her parents had been seven years prior.
Selling the car had hurt since it was the last reminder she had of when her parents used to love each of them – when they were a family.
Speaking of hurting…
There was Spencer.
The urge to strangle him was growing exponentially. He kept calling, every three days on the average, with some new Willy Wonka joke.
"Hey! Will you swizzle my Twizzler?"
That was the last one. She wasn't going to take it anymore. His corny messages on the machine were ticking her off, and the hesitant voice he used when she picked up was annoying. When she got those, she usually hung up before he could get started. No use encouraging him by being an audience.
Although, there was something "off" about the voice that he used when she picked up rather than let it go to the machine. It was somehow quieter, more hesitant, than Spencer usually was. She decided to attribute it to superior acting skills.
Veronica's phone rang once again. Spencer - right on schedule. Just in case of the outlandish possibility that it wasn't though - she screwed on her most professional voice.
"Carmichael Productions. Veronica speaking."
"Ms. Carmichael. Good afternoon! How are you today?" The light tenor that had plagued her spoke.
She sighed mentally and decided to play along. "I'm fine. Yourself?"
There was a slight hesitation – as if surprised to have made it this far, "Splendiferous!"
She rolled her eyes at the expression. Spencer had been practicing, "Excellent. What can I do for you today?"
I'm looking for a talented candy artist and you were referred by several people."
Hmmm… this was a new tact – it even sounded promising. Maybe this was a legitimate job and not Spencer jerking her around.
"I'm with Wonka Inc. and…"
Her hopes and expectations plummeted and she broke in, "Jesus Spencer! Quit it already! I know your voice and this joke has gone far enough."
"Excuse me?"
She was truly angry now, "Spencer – Fact One: Wonka hasn't looked beyond his own gates for anything other than his apprentice for 15 years. Having him look for someone like me is ridiculous."
"N- n-now wait just a minute…" he sputtered.
She ruthlessly continued, "Two: Why look for someone like me when the man is rumored to be Merlin of the Candyland set? It's a superfluous set of skills."
"Actually…"
"Finally Three: After two and a half months of looking for work – why should the world's greatest chocolatier be calling me at home when I'm flat on my ass broke, no electricity and getting ready to lose my apartment?" Tears were streaming down her face now and her voice throbbed with emotion.
There was silence at the other end of the line and she sniffed juicily into the phone.
"Oh, that was disgusting," He said faintly.
Drained, she rubbed one hand over her face.
"Spencer. I love you, and you're going to make my brother a very happy man. However, don't call here again asking me to sit on your peppermint stick; lick your lollipop, or mash your marshmallows. I'm having troubles right now and the only prospect I have is teaching a bloody cake decorating class to raw amateurs at the YMCA. Harassing me further will lead me to putting a permanent twist in your toffee, if you catch my drift."
"Who's S…"he tried to jump in.
"I'll talk to you tonight. Give my love to Reggie."
She hung up the phone over the indignant squawk.
Enough was really enough.
Veronica sadly gathered her messenger bag and prepared to ride her bike to the YMCA to teach her class.
Willy Wonka held the phone to his ear lost in thought until the dial tone shattered his concentration. He hastily dropped the phone to the cradle to eliminate the annoying noise.
He'd been sacrificing precious time in the inventing room for this project. Charlie was refining the candy kites they had created jointly. The problems with weight to lift ratio had been solved, it was just a matter of determining the scale now – it was something Charlie could do on his own while Willy pursued the hiring of Ms. Carmichael. At first it was a search for a trustworthy artist for his project, but now it was starting to look like they needed each other.
Veronica Carmichael was at the end of her rope. That much was obvious. He'd thought her crazy for persistently hanging up on him until just now. Her inadvertent explanation really clarified things - she was working under the impression that he was a crank caller of someone she obviously knew. He was willing to excuse the rudeness of multiple hang-ups under those circumstances.
She was also circling the drain professionally too, thanks to the extensive networking and backstabbing of Victor Brahm. Willy frowned – there was a bad egg if he'd ever seen one.
Willy knew what kind of despair she was going through – he had felt similar when forced to close his factory due to corporate espionage.
Emboldened by that thought, he considered further. If some sort of fairy godmother could have shown up during those dark times to let him know that the future wasn't as bleak as it appeared at that moment, would he have taken that opportunity?
Without a doubt.
So would he be willing to be that fairy godmother for someone else?
If they would be willing to take that chance to believe in him.
Willy Wonka came to a slow personal realization. This was a cause he wanted to undertake – the redemption of a dream for the sake of the one he nearly lost himself at his darkest hour. If he could save someone from that kind of spiritual death – it was his obligation to do so.
He jumped to his feet, snatching his top hat off the top of his desk and grabbed the Nerds cane from its umbrella stand.
Willy hurried to the administrative offices. There was no way that Veronica Carmichael would believe him over the phone – he knew that now. He would have to make a personal appearance.
"Doris! I need the address and GPS coordinates for the Birmingham YMCA. I'm on a mission."
The unflappable Oompa Loompa secretary simply raised an eyebrow at the request. Nimble fingers danced over the keyboard pulling up the requested information.
"Oh, let Charlie and the Buckets know I won't be able to join them for dinner tonight."
"I'm going out."
"Finally, make sure the icing is cold, otherwise you won't be able to shape it or place it on your cake."
Veronica stared at the group of five people with dead eyes. Cake decorating classes at the local YMCA – this is what mind-numbing depths she had sunk to. Two senior citizens, one earnest looking high school student and two heavy women in heavy makeup stared up at her with glazed eyes. She finished up the buttercream rose and deftly set it on the cake.
She had given up most of her hope. Time to face facts - it was three months after the competition and not a single call for a new project, not a single returned message from business associates she'd once almost call friends. It was if the world she'd once lived and worked simply forgot that she existed.
Jerking her attention from her bleak thoughts, she regarded the group before her. No potential clients here – most were here for learning how to write a name on a sheet cake. None showed the interest in anything more except the high school student – and she was bouncing with the six "efforts" she'd squeezed out earlier.
"Thank you very much ladies, I think your efforts have turned out beautifully. Please let me know if you have any questions." She forced the smile to her lips and started to clean up the countertop. The group climbed to their feet, chatting among themselves and carefully took their decorating efforts home to be enjoyed by their families.
Family. Crap. Veronica couldn't repress the grimace at the thought. Reggie and Spencer were in the throes of wedding fever. They were still at the stage where cartoon birds and hearts should be chirping and flying around their heads. Her problems and reality had no place with them right now.
She'd promised to make the cake, but with the state of her finances, even with the classes she taught, there wouldn't be enough for supplies and food. She quickly washed the sticky bowls of icing and wiped down the countertop with scarred hands, an appropriate reminder of her soon-to-be-past life – no one worked with sugar for long without getting burned. In more ways than one…
Emotional stress finally took its toll. That particular thought woke the monster in her mind – the past trauma that had hurt her and sought to hurt her again. No, she thought. I'm not letting this affect me again. The jeering, leering face faded back into her mind and she mentally locked and bolted the door again.
The flashback and panic attack took more energy than she'd thought as her knees wobbled and threatened to fold. She had been skipping lunch for weeks, trying to make the money last longer and the sub-standard diet of Ramen noodles weren't helping. For a moment she felt dizzy and tired and she tried to push her weakness away with what energy she had left.
"Excuse me?"
The voice startled her badly and Veronica jumped back, eyes wide with fright. She quickly composed herself and saw the man standing by the door. "Yes? Are you here for the cake decorating class? I'm sorry, you just missed it."
The man, somewhat flamboyantly dressed entered the room. He wore a back top hat with a violet striped band, plum frock coat with dark paisley shirt, black vest and slacks and large dark goggle sunglasses covered his eyes. Thin hands in black latex gloves twisted a cane filled with small candies inside. Only then did she notice the pale complexion and mahogany hair in an old-fashioned bob. "N-no. Not here for the class," He said in a soft tenor. The voice sounded familiar…
Veronica could see that the man was ill at ease, "Is there something I can help you with, sir?"
The man seemed to gather himself a bit more and tilted his head in an inquiring manner, "Actually, there is. I've been searching for someone who works with spun sugar."
Veronica felt the world freeze for a moment.
He could still be a crony of Spencer's - taking revenge for verbally filleting him over the phone. Although she had her serious doubts that Spencer could be that cruel or malicious. He'd mock your wardrobe, and rearrange your kitchen cabinets, but not this. Confusion clouded her mind.
"Who sent you?" she asked, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice – no mustn't get my hopes up.
Who was this man?
After all this time, could this the project she'd been waiting for?
The man giggled – actually giggled like a child. "No one sent me. Your former associate Victor Brahm has tried admirably to steer anyone looking for you or your work in the wrong direction. Fortunately, I have better resources at my disposal."
She felt the flush of humiliation at the news of why no one had bothered to contact her for work after the fiasco. Victor, using his name and contacts to ruin her reputation was something she had thought of, but passed off as too paranoid for truth. Looks like the paranoid are sometimes right.
The man twirled his cane for a moment, seeing her digest his words. "I however, saw what happened during that Food Network Confectionary Competition. You were not to blame for that idiot's mistake and was impressed with what you managed to do."
"What I managed to do? I managed to get myself fired and blacklisted by one of the most influential candy artisans out there." Tired beyond the ability to think, Veronica sighed and grabbed her jacket preparing to leave.
Still, work was work – and at this point, she really couldn't be picky. "I might be able to help, what kind of project are you looking for?" she came closer to the man and found that he loomed over her by a few inches. The hat added to the intimidation factor.
The eyes behind the goggles fastened on hers. "I'm looking for someone – highly creative – to create a special gift to be presented the week before Christmas - a unique creation celebrating a special long-term working relationship."
Bells rang in her head, "Are you the gentleman who kept calling me…"
"…And getting hung up on." The man smiled – a brittle smile that seemed all too plastic.
She felt the blush creep up her cheeks – sheer embarrassment thundering through her veins. She wanted to tuck her tail between her legs and slink away.
"I am so sorry!" She apologized profusely. She hid her face in her hands, trying to hide how red her face was.
"It's alright – I quite understand. You were kind enough to tell me earlier today when I called."
This time she looked at him in shock, "Today? You mean that was you…" Veronica was sure that this was a new level of hell.
"I guess this blows any notion of professional behavior out of the water," she whispered in a low voice, head hung in shame. "I'm sure Mr. Wonka wouldn't be interested in hiring someone with so much personal baggage for such an important project."
"Mr. Wonka is very interested in giving you a chance to prove that you are the right person for the job. "
Veronica's head snapped up, her hazel eyes lit with hope, "Really?"
"Really. I can tell you that he thinks that you deserve a chance, and that he has the highest faith in your abilities," The man's smile seemed a little more genuine this time and although she couldn't see his eyes, she sensed a bit more warmth to his tone.
She smiled back and straightened her shoulders and for the first time since the Confectionary Competition, stood straight and tall – like a knight challenged by his monarch. "Then, I would be honored to undertake whatever test Mr. Wonka would care to put before me."
The man strode to the small YMCA demonstration kitchen area and gestured to the remaining cake supplies on the counter. "Okay-dokey. You have 30 minutes to make me something out of the stuff here."
Glancing at the counter and the ingredients, Veronica grinned – this would be easy. "Certainly – would you care to take a seat?"
He glanced uneasily at the seats – they were rather grimy. "Uh…no thanks. I'd rather watch closer if you don't mind."
She inclined her head regally, "Of course." She'd worked in tighter quarters in Victor's kitchen. If she could put up with him, she could put up with anything.
One thing…
"So you mind if I put on some music while I work?" she asked, pausing in her motions.
"Please do!"
"Thank you," she quickly grabbed her IPod and set up the small, but powerful speakers on the desk in the front row to keep it clear of the cook area.
The man moved aside to the front of the counter as the heavy bass beat of Joan Jett's "Bad Reputation" came on.
He pulled out an old fashioned chain watch out of his vest pocket. He glanced at it and said, "Begin."
The man in the plum coat studied Veronica as she virtually danced her way through the test. Snapping on virtually identical purple latex gloves, she pirouetted through the kitchen. Quick graceful hands molded the marzipan set on the counter. Within minutes a dozen little animals were crafted, painted with food dye and set to dry.
It was during, "Crazy" by Gnarles Barkley that he recognized what she was making. The animals were quickly spitted on wooden skewers and placed on a flat round platform of cake that had been attached to a lazy susan. A similar piece with a rounded dome top was placed on top and gently pressed into the skews holding them in place. Both were quickly and creatively decorated with scenes from Noah's ark around the edges. It was an outstanding example of improvised decorating
The merry-go-round of paired animals looked as if they were bounding in a parade – each lovingly decorated and the sophistication of the minimally applied color was startling. Ms. Carmichael was indeed a talented artist
She was actually humming along with the music when she finished – just short of the time allotted.
Veronica was suddenly nervous. She removed the gloves and shot them into the garbage can and turned to wash her hands. "This really isn't my medium – I work primarily with sugar. But you did specify to work with what was here."
"Indeed I did. Mr. Wonka is quite impressed. He likes what you've done by using the materials at hand – using the lazy susan was a nice touch." He reached out to spin the completed carousel.
Veronica felt like she had missed something, "Excuse me? How do you know what Willy Wonka thinks?
He reached up to remove the goggles and study her work closer with brilliant violet eyes.
"Why, because I am Willy Wonka."
He looked up at her gobsmacked expression with a smirk of pure satisfaction.
"I'd be in real trouble if I couldn't read my own mind."