I do not own anything from Charlie and the Chocolate factory. All rights and likenesses belong to Roald Dahl, Johnny Depp and Tim Burton. The Oopma Loompa lawyer, Mr. Rapik-Ra, esquire, has contacted me and insisted that Nutella is not a significant source of compensation for employment. However, negotiations are continuing for services in exchange for chocolate-covered expresso beans… or was that coffee-covered cocoa beans…? – Stealth Phoenix
Chapter 7
Willy enjoyed the beautiful scenery on the return trip to the factory. The sun was setting and the shadows cast long purple shadows over the land below. The orange and blood red sky bled into inky midnight blue and the final outline of black skeletal trees added a desolate beauty to the fading day.
His mind was awhirl with all he had learned this evening and with what had to be accomplished. Giving Ms. Carmichael her own space to work in next to her own apartment was a burden lifted. Willy had dreaded bringing yet another person to the factory. Bringing the Buckets in had led to panic attacks and quite a few late night sessions with his psychiatrist for almost a year until he grew comfortable with their presence.
The factory loomed black in his field of vision as he flew closer – the large gothic industrial structure now dominating the landscape.
Willy decided that rather than negotiate with the owners of the building to make the changes critical to his project, he would just buy the building outright. If he could get everyone out of the building for a day or two – he could have all construction efforts completed by the Oompa Loompas and ready to work.
He considered for a moment, what he would tell his workers about the woman. He didn't typically go out of his way to help a struggling artist like this – more often than not a judicious application of cash accomplished the same results. But he decided to tell them the truth – just not the whole truth. He would say that he had seen her on the Food Network Challenge, found out about her bad luck, and was helping her get her business underway – the candy globes were a nice bonus. A nice clean business arrangement – and the gift was something that need not be mentioned.
The Wonkavator smoothly slid back onto the guiding rail in the factory like a dove returning to its roost after a long day. It came to rest outside his office and she stepped out. He was met by one of his workers, Ori-Va – otherwise known as Orville – who bowed. Orville was the plant foreman in charge of maintenance.
Willy returned the gesture and started walking down the corridor to the Chocolate Room. "What happened while I was gone?" he asked to the short man trotting beside him.
"Char-Li has completed the trials on the candy kites. He was initially worried about the melting points for the licorice lines and would like your input." Orville's surprisingly deep voice replied.
"Char-Li mentioned a myth about Icarus and what would happen if the kite string got too hot?"
Willy nodded, "Oh yeah. I'd almost forgotten about that...he's got a good point."
Melted licorice - meh! - "Continue please!"
Orville continued. "One of the gobstopper guns backfired and there were some minor bumps and bruises – repairs were made and the gun is back in operation."
Willy listened attentively to the matters of the factory as they headed deeper into the bowels of the factory. He nodded a few times and gave a few terse commands.
"Charlie will be accompanying me to the front office tomorrow morning to learn how our distribution forecasts work – make sure extra darts and a new map are handy. Also, the weather is getting ready to get colder – make sure the windows are sealed and there are no drastic temperature differences anywhere there shouldn't be. We don't want anyone hitting a draft and getting sick before the Exodus Celebration, 'kay?"
They had arrived at the door to the Chocolate Room and Orville turned to leave.
"Wait a sec." Willy paused thoughtfully. Most of the equipment that Ms. Carmichael was going to need was already here – it would be easier and more time efficient to take it from here rather than order and have to wait a week or two for it to arrive.
Orville paused, awaiting the word of his employer and friend.
"We're doing a good deed for a local starving artist. I need a work crew to be ready to go at my word to set up a small artisan candy kitchen not too far from here."
Willy continued, rattling off a list of equipment and supplies available in the factory to be delivered and installed as soon as the building purchase was done.
"This is going to be a random act of kindness here – so review the specs for the building and let me know if we're going to be able to do it in a day or if we'll need more time. 'kay?"
Orville smiled at the taller man. He and his people were constantly amazed at the seemingly bottomless gift for giving that Willy Wonka possessed. He always made sure that his money and efforts went to improving the lives of those who could use what he gave them to improve their lives – not just dropped a nickel in the bucket and didn't fix the problem.
Orville nodded and bowed with deepest respect. Then he quickly turned and raced off to fulfill his employer's request.
Willy watched the small figure in the red jumpsuit trot off – looks like he bought it! Whew!
He turned and entered the Chocolate room. He was going to need Charlie's help for the next part.
Willy had missed dinner – roast chicken with vegetables. Mrs. Bucket was kind enough to fix him a plate of the still warm food to eat as he spoke. After assuring them that the Oompa Loompas were not in proximity, he quickly laid out his plan for the Exodus Celebration and Ms. Carmichael's role in it.
Grandpa Joe tapped his teeth deep in thought. "What you need is some way to communicate with her without having to run back and forth all the time."
Willy paused with his mouth full and head cocked in thought for a moment. Chewing rapidly he waved his fork for emphasis, "Secured satellite conferences and encrypted e-mail traffic. Remember? NASA owes me."
"That way you can see what she's got and talk to her - brilliant!" Charlie exclaimed. "Have you decided on what it's going to be yet?"
The Chocolatier shook his head, "No, and I'm not going to dictate form. In fact, check this out..." He reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the candy globes that had been suspended from Ms. Carmichael's ceiling and tossed it to his apprentice.
Charlie deftly caught it and held it up to the soft firelight – the spun sugar globe gleamed gently with swirls of complementary colors.
Mrs. Bucket gasped and touched it with a delicate finger, making it spin "Lovely!"
Charlie turned toward his mentor, "It's beautiful – this would be wonderful for Christmas. When did you get the chance to make this?"
"I didn't – it's not mine. This is complements of Ms. Carmichael who agreed that we would be able to produce and distribute her creation under the Wonka name."
Everyone examined the globe with new eyes – whoever came up with this had a gift.
"Ms. Carmichael indicated she was going to draft up some ideas and present them to me tomorrow night. Charlie, I would like you to come with since we're going to be working on the flavoring and formulation to go with what she proposes." Willy mentioned this with a nod to Charlie's parents, covertly asking their permission to take their son on an expedition.
"Mom? Dad? May I please go?" Charlie asked, breaking out his Puppy Eyes™.
The irresistible force of Puppy Eyes™ was too much for them, "Alright Charlie, as long as your homework is done and you don't complain about being tired at school tomorrow." His mother smiled gently at him.
Willy was impressed at the level of manipulation exhibited by his young heir. He himself had proven to be immune to Puppy Eyes™, Sad Sigh™, and Wheedling™. It wasn't like Charlie used them often – in fact, the rarity upon which they showed up increased their potency – and showed how badly Charlie wanted to accompany him. He was touched and slightly disturbed at this parental interaction – if this is what being a parent was like, it was best left to professionals.
He delicately wiped his mouth and set the napkin by the side of the plate, "On that note – I've got some work I need to get accomplished before tomorrow. The Oompa Loompas are all at home, so this is going to be my only shot to get most of it done. Good evening Buckets!"
He stood and gathered his hat and cane and left the house.
While Willy Wonka worked in his office across town, Veronica made good use of her time. As darkness crept across the land she had wrestled the bike off the roof and was peddling furiously to her brother's apartment on the upper north part of town. She jumped off the bike and quickly chained it to the light post by the front door.
Pressing the button at the top of the stairs, she heard Spencer's light tenor voice, "Yes? Who is it?"
"Candygram – open the bloody door!" She pulled on the door, but it failed to open.
"I'm sorry – I don't think we want this type of candy." Spencer's teasing tones mocked her.
She heard a scuffle at the intercom, "Honestly you two…"
There was a buzz and the door lept into Veronica's hands. She virtually flew up to the fourth floor apartment, throwing the door open in excitement.
Reggie was peering out the window at her bike chained below, "Looks a bit dinged up, what happened?"
"It fell off a roof. Can I borrow your computer?"
Spencer came out of the bedroom in his typical loungewear – basketball shorts and a white wifebeater, "I'm sorry – did you just say your bike fell off a roof?" He stopped in horror – seeing her vivid black eye, "Ronnie! What happened?"
Ignoring him she continued to try and move past him to the computer.
"Pushed actually – if you don't mind, I need to do quite a lot of research tonight, would you mind if I crashed on your couch?
Both crossed their arms and regarded her with the same lofty expression that fairly screamed, "Explain yourself, young lady!"
She snorted, it never worked with her parent then, she'd be damned if it would now.
Spencer broke first with an arch look at Reggie, "Alien Abduction?"
Reggie shook is dark head, "Government conspiracy?"
"Doctor Who?"
"X-Files."
They looked at each other with a grin then turned to face her with grim expressions, "Ronnie – who's been Muldering your Scully?"
She threw her hands up in aggravation. "My bike was on the roof – I needed it to get over here. Ergo – quickest point between two lines is not a stairway. So I pushed it off – the wheel bent back just fine. What's the issue?"
Reggie guided her to the couch and pushed her down with gentle force before sitting next to her to take her hands with concerned gentle eyes. "The issue is, we both know you're broke and are concerned about making rent. We're concerned because we know what a sensitive and lonely girl you are – and we want to make sure that no one's trying to hurt you. Including yourself. Now, why was your bike on the roof and where did the black eye come from?"
Blinking back sudden tears, Veronica smiled at her brother. The great loving idiot.
"Reggie, if I was going to do myself in, don't you think riding my bike off the roof is one of the most idiotic ways to go?"
They both had the brains to look somewhat shamefaced. Reggie coughed, "Well – dramatic anyway."
"It's a good way to get mentioned on the news." Spencer muttered.
Rolling her eyes she pulled herself to her feet and made her way over to the computer desk in the corner. Normally, this was Spencer's domain – he spent hours playing "World of Warcraft" online and as a result, the area was very – cushy.
"I have got a commission," Veronica announced to the pair watching with concerned eyes. "I have six weeks to complete it. My mission - should I choose to complete it - comes with a price tag of €500,000."
Spencer and Reggie shot disbelieving looks at one another, half a million?! For candy!?
"Who's it for?"
She smirked without looking at them and started surfing the net for the information and images she needed. "I'm not at liberty to say at this moment."
"Oh come off it!" Spencer burst. "I tell you what costumes are going on the latest West End productions. Grant me some professional courtesy please!"
Spencer was a costume designer for the theater set in London – his flair for color and cut were very popular with the American actors. Reggie worked as a dancer and choreographer for musicals in development with the theaters – it was while creating magic for the stage with "Sweeny Todd" that they had met. Both had made a sick amount of money from their chosen professions that they had been willing to share with her when times were good.
Payback was a bitch at times.
She growled and slumped for a moment. She wanted to hold onto the secret – something special – only for her. But real life had people who cared for her and they needed to know.
"You want professional? Fine – then I'm telling you right now, quit ringing my apartment claiming to be Willy Wonka." She snarled, typing furiously.
Blinking at the change in topic, "Ronnie darling, it was a joke. What does that have anything to do with it?"
Well, if she was going to have to tell, she was going to enjoy the show.
Turning from the computer, she regarded the pair with an arch look on her face. Raising an eyebrow, she waited for it.
"Ronnie – why do you object to Spencer calling you up to be Willy Wonka?" Reggie wondered aloud.
She started to grin.
"What does Wonka have to do with anything?" Spencer asked with dawning light in his eyes.
She waited until Reggie gasped and started flapping his hands excitedly.
"No bloody way!"
"You mean Wil..."
Now thoroughly tickled, she returned to the computer keyboard, "See. Now you know why I couldn't tell you."
Reggie stopped suddenly with a black look, "Wait a minute. What about the black eye?"
"Oh – that was Mr. Wonka. It was an accident though."
"Willy Wonka gave you a black eye?" Spencer's eyes were practically bugging out of his skull.
Veronica sighed, this was going to be a long night.
Willy hung up the phone with a sigh of satisfaction. Other than being bugged at being contacted after midnight, the building owners were more than happy to turn over the property with a minimum of fuss and time. Of course, the one of the world's wealthiest men offering to pay two times what the building was worth in cash probably encouraged cooperation more than anything else. Tupik-Ra would be busy tomorrow – as his legal counsel, he would draw up the paperwork to be signed tomorrow afternoon.
He was drawing up a list of equipment and supplies that Ms. Carmichael might theoretically use and how the space should be set up when his knee throbbed uncomfortably. Curious, he leaned back and drew up the pant leg of his trousers to see the damage done earlier. A softball sized bruise decorated the inside point of his kneecap.
Looks like Ms. Carmichael left him with a reminder.
Dropping the pant leg, Willy smirked to himself and returned to his work…
…haunted by a black and blue hazel green eye and a faint pressure of skin against his fingertips.