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 Oompa Loompa representative, Tupik-Ra, would like to point out the misidentification of the Wonka maintenance foreman Ori-Vil in the last chapter. Ori-Va (otherwise known as Oliver) has been identified as the supply clerk and alternate candy-tester. Ori-Va has never left the factory – due to a bad experience in the invention room and some Night Nougat, is agoraphobic. Any misunderstanding is unintentional and will be corrected. – Stealth Phoenix
Chapter 8
The sun set with the same stealth and attention paid as it had rose. Concentrating on the soft-crack grade molten sugar under the heat lamps, Veronica completely failed to notice the time.
A soft cough and rapping on the hard wooden floor was the only thing that wrenched her attention from the formation before her.
She straightened up and looked around in amazement at the dark area. Mr. Wonka and a slightly shorter leaner figure stood outlined next to him. She could barely make out their outline of darker shadows from the surrounding gloom.
"Hello?" She called. "I'm sorry, I lost track of the time – flip on the light, would you?"
The shorter figure flipped the light switch on the wall and Veronica had to squint in the sudden light.
"I'm glad to see the facilities meet your approval, Ms. Carmichael," teased Mr. Wonka with a smirk.
She scratched the back of her neck sheepishly, "Yes, well – I had to take it for a test drive, didn't I?"
She indicated the basic sculpture before her, "Everything seems to work out well. Although some of the equipment is quite nice, its things I'll never need. Like the air-pump - I don't tend to use them because I need a finer grade of control than what is commonly used. I learned how to blow sugar from a glass-maker."
Mr. Wonka nodded and came closer to examine the sculpture in minute detail. He waved the smaller figure over, "Ms. Carmichael – I would like you to meet Charlie Bucket, my heir."
Charlie nodded politely and offered his hand. She held her hands up – covered in a greasy substance. "Sorry – sticky fingers - nice to meet you Charlie."
Charlie shook the proffered elbow with a grin although it faded quickly at the sight of Veronica's black eye. Mr. Wonka leaned over, just out of range of the heat lamps and quietly began pointing out features of her work to the boy. She turned to the sink to wash her hands and get rid of the goo.
--
Willy noted that the sculpture had a thick base and rising spires like flames rose from the center in a spiral pattern, gradient color – deep red at the base and rising up into orange and yellow reinforced the flame impression. He silently noted one other important detail – in a few places still obviously being worked on, marks of fingertips left impressions in the hot sugar. It was something that was not normally present without an impression of the texture of gloves as well – but he could see fingerprints.
Weird.
--
"This is very good, Ms. Carmichael," Charlie said impressed.
Veronica shrugged, "Eh. I was just playing – the sugar isn't flavored, textured or anything, just a basic exercise to test and see what I had to work with. When I get going – all the stops are going to be pulled out."
Mr. Wonka stood from his inspection and clapped his hands together in anticipation, "Outstanding! What do you have for us?"
She switched off the heat lamp and led the way to the conference table where her notes were laid out. Both Mr. Wonka and Charlie perked up at the pictures she had printed out of the samples of aboriginal artwork.
"This looks remarkably similar to the Oompa Loompas work," Charlie noted to his mentor, sliding one particular goddess figure to Mr. Wonka.
"Similar – but not quite the same."
"I did my research into the area where you indicated where the Oompa Loompas were from, figuring that if I got an idea of what symbols or figures they valued, I could design something that would hold deep meaning to them," Veronica explained. She slid other samples of native work from the surrounding area. "The Machi-Machi tribe for example, uses fish symbols, and water to indicate the importance of the role of each in the day to day life – they're fishermen. "
"This one is...rather unpronounceable to me… but they hold the breadfruit sacred since it is their primary source of food – although there are also carvings of monkeys and other animals would see in the surrounding jungle.
She leaned forward, "What is it that the Oompa Loompa hold sacred. What is something particularly special to them?"
"Cocoa Beans," Charlie said, excited. "Mr. Wonka actually pays them in cocoa beans."
Veronica raised her eyebrows and grabbed a pencil in excitement, "Really? Mr. Wonka, could you please explain?"
Feeling rather defensive all of a sudden, Willy fidgeted with his cane for a moment before answering. "The cocoa bean was something that an Oompa Loompa was likely to come across maybe once or twice a year. What they primarily subsided on were green caterpillars and grubs."
"Weren't they able to hunt or cultivate crops?" Veronica asked, scribbling rapidly.
"No – they're too small. A full grown Oompa Loompa is never more than 30 centimeters tall."
She stopped scribbling and looked up at him, puzzled. "What about Orville and the other workers here today?"
Willy froze, shocked. "How do you know Orville?"
"He invited me to come up here when they were finished. Orville helped me set up the code to get in here – why else did you think I was in here?" Veronica was still puzzled.
Charlie was equally puzzled and looked to his mentor for explanation.
"Those were indeed Oompa Loompas, Ms. Carmichael," said Willy slowly, thinking with lightning speed. "Orville was supposed to leave you a note explaining how to set your code yourself. I wasn't aware you had been approached."
"I provided my workers the means to disguise themselves to be able to come here to fix up the place. They are normally very shy. I wonder what possessed him." He smiled with the plastic expression that did little to hide the horror in his eyes.
Veronica felt the sudden need to defend Orville's actions. "He was quite polite – I made sure to thank him properly."
"How?" asked Charlie – seeing that Willy was frozen with a rictus grin on his face.
"Well, according to what I discovered, I bowed when I thanked him and gave him a gift – chocolate-covered espresso beans."
Willy seemed to thaw and relax - he breathed a deep sigh of relief. "You did the right thing, although presenting Orville with the beans was an excellent touch. That is a high honor indeed."
"Did I do something wrong? Is Orville in trouble?" she asked anxiously, a thin crinkle creased her brows as she wrung her hands in alarm.
"No! No. This was just very unexpected. They're very mischievous when irked and tend to be very protective of me." Willy explained. What were they thinking exposing themselves like that to an unknown person.
Veronica relaxed by inches and nervously clearing her throat offered, "Would you care for something to eat or drink? I just restocked the larder."
"Hot chocolate?"
"Only if you're prepared to wait – I don't do the pre-packaged stuff."
"I'd think less of you if you did. Charlie?"
Charlie glanced at his wristwatch. It was starting to get late and he did have school tomorrow – and Willy and Ms. Carmichael seemed like they were just getting started.
"I'd love to, maybe next time. I need to get back soon."
Ms. Carmichael nodded and started to leave the office, pausing to shake Charlie's hand once more. "Charlie – it's a pleasure to have met you. I hope to see you again."
Charlie shook the warm hand and noticed the texture under his hands seemed different than a hand should feel. He glanced down and saw a fairly normal looking hand, but the palm and fingers were heavy with scar tissue. Veronica noticed him looking and sighed – giving the boy a patient look. "Yes, it did hurt – no it doesn't now. It happened a long time ago."
Willy glanced up from where he was perusing her sketches. What had Charlie noticed?
Charlie eyes shone with sympathy, glancing at the many colors of purple and puce her eye had faded to.
"You've had a rough time. I'm sorry it happened."
She gave him a sad smile – a deeper shadow of some emotion haunted her eyes, "So was I. But I turned it to my advantage."
Rather than give further explanation, she turned and punched in her PIN to leave the apartment.
Charlie turned to regard Willy whose expression was inflamed with curiosity.
"Her hands are all scarred. It's pretty thick, if I hadn't shook her hand I'd never have noticed."
Willy looked puzzled, "I didn't notice anything."
Charlie shrugged, "Maybe you didn't notice because of your gloves?"
Willy let the matter go for the moment. "Go ahead and take the Wonkavator back. I've got a remote-call button when I need to head out. Good night Charlie! I'll let you know what progress we make tomorrow over breakfast."
The young man clasped his shoulder in farewell and left. A few moments later, Willy heard the thrusters firing and a dim reflection of light could be seen from the windows of the surrounding building. He returned to his studies of designs – but found his concentration divided.
What was it about Veronica Carmichael that tugged his thoughts from their proper course?
--
Veronica allowed the milk to steam for a few minutes – allowing the liquid to absorb the subtle flavors of select spices. The chocolate would be added last – lest the additives overwhelm the taste of good melted chocolate.
She had hoped that Charlie would have missed the scars. Nothing to help it though, she just hoped that her casual dismissal of the cause distracted him. It was something she didn't like to talk about and just hinting at it now made her temples throb. She was truly tired after more than 24-hours straight, and her hands were shaking with exhaustion and the effort of steering clear of emotional landmines.
Time. She quickly poured the hot chocolate into warmed mugs and added a few buttery cookies to the tray. Adding a few napkins, she carried the tray out of the apartment, juggling for a moment to lock the door. The trip up the stairs only took a few moments, and she entered the office to find Mr. Wonka intently studying her papers.
She placed a napkin on the table and the hot mug on top of that. Mr. Wonka indicated one of her designs, "This one has promise, but we need to use a cocoa bean theme."
Veronica frowned, "You know, I don't think I've ever seen a cocoa bean – processed chocolate, but not the whole actual bean."
Mr. Wonka indicated the computer on the counter. "You've got internet on this – I need to show you something anyway." He sipped the hot chocolate hurriedly, then paused – head tilted, then went back for another sip before washing it from cheek to cheek and swallowing. "Cardamon, cinnamon and ..red pepper?"
"Yes."
"Good. I've still got it." He gave her a cheeky grin and bounced to the computer. The spinning golden "W" on the purple background dropped away to reveal a typical desktop screen. He indicated she should come closer and she hovered nervously over his shoulder.
"Now this is a function not found on your typical laptop." Mr. Wonka clicked on a phone icon and a new screen popped up scrolling numbers before going black. There was a pause and then video of a rather grand looking office chair behind an unforgivably cluttered desk appeared.
Mr. Wonka giggled nervously, "Heh! I really need to get that cleaned up."
Seeing a calendar from March 1992 of a kitten hanging from a line with the words, "Hang in there, baby!" Veronica had to agree.
"This is a direct satellite linkup between this computer and my factory. You should be able to contact me if I'm not able to get over here."
"Why not just use a cell phone with camera capability?"
"Not secure enough."
Clicking the program closed, his fingers flew across the keyboard pulling up information faster than she could blink. Soon a picture of a cocoa bean was up on the screen, and she scrabbled with a pen to sketch the lines before her.
"This is a Madagascar-Kenyan hybrid. It's one of the largest out there, although not really that potent, so I only use a small percentage. For our uses, however, it's the best way to make out the typical characteristics of the bean."
Veronica's mind was ablaze with new ideas upon seeing this new form. She bantered ideas back and forth for hours with Mr. Wonka, sketching, arguing and finally coming to an agreement of basic structure. A giant cocoa bean, outlined only in the starkest terms with arching bands to form an outline of the beloved legume. It would take practice and experimentation to work, but she was confident it would come together.
Mr. Wonka seemed ready to go for a second round over color and flavoring when a wide yawn popped her jaw. She blushed in embarrassment, "Excuse me."
"No, no. I apologize to you dear lady, I fear I've kept you from your rest too long. Sometimes my enthusiasm gets away from me," Willy climbed to his feet and stretched his arms up over his head.
"I should really be getting back to the factory. I need to get a few hours of sleepy time before starting all over again."
She nodded – amazed at the amount of work they had managed to get done. "Me too – I missed last night because of brainstorms."
Gathering their notes, Mr Wonka, almost shyly remarked, "Your eye doesn't seem to have swollen up much from yesterday."
Veronica had to laugh, "Ice. I put plenty of ice on it and it seemed to have done the trick. I've got some make-up to cover the colors though to keep questions down."
"I'm not sure whether or not to be alarmed or impressed that you know that."
"Reggie and Spencer seemed impressed – although I did blame the bike and not you. Reggie hasn't gotten it out of his system that my honor needs no defending."
"On that note – I will bid you a fond adieu, Ms. Carmichael." Mr. Wonka took her hand and graced the air over it with a courteous kiss.
She laughed and opened the door for Mr. Wonka to leave. 'Parting is such sweet sorrow?"
"You got it, toots! Nighty night."
He disappeared up the stairs and a she heard the Wonkavator blast off yet again that night. Hope the neighbors don't complain.
--
Mssrs. Hemminway and Wood were thrilled that their old property on the wrong side of town had been bought for three times its worth. The real estate market had not only been depressed – it was suicidal. Even if the odd offer in the middle of the night had been unexpected, it had also paid out as soon as the banks had opened in the morning. The business partners decided to celebrate the sale and office Christmas Party in style this year. A lavish party for a few select friends was the best way to bring in the holiday season.
They contacted Dolce La Vita to cater the party – Mr. Brahm was more than willing to offer a discount when they told him what had happened to his former employee.