I do not own anything from Charlie and the Chocolate factory. All rights and likenesses belong to Roald Dahl, Johnny Depp and Tim Burton. No profit is being garnered from this work. Interesting note; Tupik-Ra says that the Oompa Loompa swear by Cocoa Beans to cure hangovers. (Then again they swear by them for everything. Hey, any excuse to eat chocolate is good for me.) – Stealth Phoenix
Chapter 35
It was a few minutes and a shot of brandy later when the shock receded enough for Veronica to talk. Needless to say, the holiday mood had been successfully quashed.
"Who took the bloody pictures, that's what I want to know," she huffed, sipping at the amber liquid. The news had switched to some American starlet's fiasco at a late night party and the arrest following- the usual idiot drivel. She never dreamed she'd be included in it.
"That would be David Lawson – he used one of those camera phones." Spencer said, sitting back and extending his long legs to rest on the coffee table before the couch.
"I saw him recording the dancing and thought it pretty harmless. I thought that would be the last of it," Veronica admitted, slumping back to slouch against the back of the couch. Her jacket and bag were still on and she wasn't of a mind to take them off at the moment.
"Normally, I would agree – I wanted to see how that looked from the other side myself," Reggie said. "But he broke the rules of hospitality by shooting you two. That is beyond rude."
"No use whinging about it now. What we've got to figure out is what to do now?" Spencer said sensibly.
Veronica looked to Reggie and Spencer for advice on this one since they worked with the celebrities on a daily basis.
"First things first – what do we hope to accomplish?" Spencer grabbed a pen and pad from behind him on the computer desk.
"I want my privacy. Willy and I just figured out that we love one another – that's not open to commentary or play-by-play," Veronica said firmly.
"It's still going to be a topic open for discussion though - not to mention that since Willy is such a recluse that you're a good alternate target for paparazzi attention." Reggie said sadly.
"You could keep staying at the factory with Willy. He seemed to like the idea of having you close by when the apartment burned down," Spencer pointed out.
Veronica frowned. That was the crux of the matter wasn't it?
"Technically, I finished the project – so I'm no longer an employee. Other than personal reasons I have no other reason to linger there," She said slowly, leaning forward and playing with the glass.
Spencer and Reggie looked at each other and then at her with disbelief in their eyes.
"Personal reasons? You love the bloke – that's every reason to stick around." Reggie said.
"Yes. I do. But I don't want to be some glass animal in his little menagerie. The factory is a wonderful, but it's a protected place. Willy has turned it into a little bubble outside the world. I'm not ready to retreat into that yet. Not to mention I really have nothing to do there." Veronica said, speaking as well as thinking things through. "I intended to start looking for a new place to live anyway."
"What does Willy have to say about all this?" Reggie asked, turning off the television for the moment.
"We haven't had much of a chance to talk about it yet. He told me as I left that the factory was my home and to come back safe. I thought it rather presumptuous myself," She confessed.
"Sounds pretty clear to me that he considers you living with him," Spencer said.
Veronica blushed, "It's a bit early for that step isn't it? I mean we just…"
Reggie nodded wisely, "Oh? So you passed that little barricade recently eh? Well, I happen to agree with you – not for any puritanical reasons, but more or less because you two are so early in the relationship."
Spencer agreed, "It's a wonderful thing to be close to the one you love all the time, but you have to maintain your own identity as well. I have a feeling that if you just became some sort of goupie you two would soon part company. Not to mention you wouldn't be you anymore - you'd be him. I've seen couples like that, they always break up claiming they want to see "other" people."
She nodded sadly, "Too true. Maybe someday I'll live with him, but for now - it's all too new for me. I just wish we'd had the chance to talk about it before he made his mind up."
He gave her a stern look, "This is something you make time to talk about with him."
Spencer looked woeful, "Media attention isn't going to make anything easier. It's only a matter of time before they dig up this mess with your apartment building and bloody Brahm."
Veronica winced, "One disaster at a time please."
"Well, let's focus on the first thing," Reggie leaned over to give her a good hug, "Congratulations – you and Willy make a lovely couple."
She half laughed and half sobbed. Trust Reggie to get to the heart of the matter.
"Second – we'll help you start scouting new places to live. I'm guessing somewhere near the factory, rooftop access and good security. Do you want to live and work in the same location?"
"Since living and working in the same place didn't work out so well, how about separate this time." She suggested, feeling better for having a plan of action.
"Bringing us nicely to question three on things we can actually do right now – how much do you want to pay for such a place?"
Veronica shrugged, "I haven't checked my account since before the fire – just to make sure I had enough to pay for presents and pay for getting the power turned back on."
"Well, you go check it on the computer and I'll dig out my rolodex to find someone to work with us," Reggie said.
Logging onto her bank, she was thankful for the advances in technology that allowed her to check her balance on Christmas Day. Much better than trying to wait until three days from now after the holidays were over.
She hit the button to bring up her account balance. Scrabbling for a working pen and tablet, she glanced at the screen, trying to shuffle over from where Reggie was scrounging through a desk drawer for his address book.
…and glanced again. Then came around for a look for a third time, feeling her jaw drop.
Reggie muttered, "Here, move away for a second, I think it's in the center drawer."
She tugged on his sleeve, staring at the screen.
Reggie looked over her shoulder, "Great Googlie Mooglie!"
Spencer, attracted by the outburst, asked from his seat, "What?"
The balance read just over €2.5 million.
"What the bloody fuck?" Reggie whispered in awe.
Veronica desperately checked the recent transactions and over the course of the last few weeks, incremental amounts had been deposited on a regular basis. The last was entered yesterday for the amount of €450,000. All were from Wonka Inc. She clicked on the deposit and read the note attached.
"This one is the final payment for my work on the project," she said mentall subtractng her advance and agreeing with the number.
Clicking on another deposit, she read the note, "Partnership Ltd. Wonka/Carmichael."
Spencer gasped, "The candy globes? The report said they had sold more than €2.2 million worth."
Veronica shook her head, "But he said…" then trailed off as the conversation returned to her.
"…I'll help you market them for a nominal fee."
That memory paired with her conversation with Clara Bucket in front of Bill's Candy store added up.
Willy had been giving her the profits on the candy globes. She was a millionaire!
Veronica winced and shook her head at the thought - other than a good safety cushion, she'd never wanted money. Looks like a couple of good donations to her favorite charities were in order once she got her living arrangements squared away.
"Money no longer seems to be an object. Still – I want something small near the factory."
"How about the Marriott Hotel?" Spencer chimed in.
"I don't want to spend my time at a hotel."
"No – I meant buy the bloody thing."
"No Spencer."
"Always worth a try…"
Reggie leaned over to gently log her off, facing her once the screen went blank, "You were saying something about not having anything to do at the factory?"
"The globes were nice, but not what I want to do. I was just trying to make enough not to lose my apartment," she protested.
"That might be, but working with Willy Wonka has a way of turning your dreams into bigger projects than you expected, doesn't it?"
Veronica moved away to retake her seat on the couch – she took a long sip of the brandy before answering.
"If you want to know the truth? I really don't have that kind of ambition to make the world a better place on that kind of scale. I want to be able to help others do so…" she sighed in frustration. "I always imagined making sculptures for charity events to be auctioned off or to raise money for a Children's hospital. Not mass producing candy – I always thought of Willy for that, never me."
Spencer leaned forward in earnest, "Talk to him about this Ronnie! Don't you dare sit here and stew in your own juices. I refuse to be a party to brooding on Christmas."
Reggie agreed, "This is something that we can't help you with. Every marriage, every relationship is different – you need to come to your own conclusions. Just don't let the media, Brahm or anyone else make that decision for you."
She nodded and the two men came at her from both sides for a group hug.
She was the luckiest woman in the world.
"Love Fest aside, let's get on with Christmas!" Spencer grinned, leaping to his feet. He flipped on the stereo to the mellow tunes of Bing Crosby singing "White Christmas."
"I for one am massively curious what you got me? After all, you're rich and can afford to buy up to my standards now." Spencer said, moving to the small tree next to the kitchen.
Gifts were handed out and unwrapped in short order. Veronica felt her gloom subside with the simple child-like pleasure of tearing brightly colored paper off presents.
Spencer crowed with joy at opening her offering to him, "Yes! You found it! I knew your impeccable taste would come through for me."
"It's a sock monkey, Spence."
"Yes, but it's my sock monkey!" He peered at the card in the sock monkey's pocket, "What's this?"
"The name of Willy's tailor. He said give him a call next week and he'll work you in," Veronica laughed as Spencer leaped to his feet and danced with joy.
Reggie smiled at the big band CD collection, "Perfect – maybe I can finally teach you to swing dance, Ronnie."
Veronica cringed at the thought, "Isn't that where your partner flings you around like a sack of flour?"
She unwrapped her present from Reggie. It was a framed picture of the four of them from the party. Reggie and Spencer, arms around each other's shoulders, looped through with her and Willy. The group was smiling and for once Willy's grin didn't look forced in the picture.
"It's beautiful Reggie. Thank you!" she said, gently brushing a finger over the picture.
She opened Spencer's gift only to slam the box shut and glare at him with a violent blush across her face, "Spencer Abernathy Talbot!"
Spencer was unashamed. "Darling – you are embarking on your first romantic relationship in a decade. You needed the refresher kit."
"Everyone needs new lingerie," Reggie agreed, giving her an evil grin.
She glowed at them as they chuckled at her discomfiture.
Payback would be a bitch.
--
Willy and Charlie made a quick tour throught the factory. Considering the Exodus Ceremony last night and the fact that it was Christmas, most of the factory was shut down - simple standby modes were all they scanned throught.
Willy was humming under his breath with a wide smile on his face. For the first time in his life he really looked forward to sitting down to Christmas Dinner with someone by his side. Occasionally he would twirl his cane and do a little dance step with joy.
Charlie was doing his best to ignore his mentor - his downcast mood was from spending part of the day scrubbing at his face and body until it was tender to try and remove the warrior markings painted on by his friends last night.
"Could you please stop that?" he finally pleaded as Willy whirled around a support post to the cotton candy-wool shearing shed. The sheep themselves were already fed and watered, their pens clean. They were apparently enjoying the show the dancing Chocolatier was providing before his apprentice interrupted.
"Can't help it Charlie. I'm so happy, I just want to burst!" Willy sang out with a twirl.
"What are you so happy about?"
"Veronica told me she loved me - and I love her - so we're in loooooooovvveee!" He sang, mostly on key.
"What happens when she goes home?" Charlie asked curiously - he had his suspicions about what had happend after they snuck out last night, but no known force in the universe was going to make him ask his mentor about that particular aspect of his love life.
Ew!
"She's not - she's staying here." Willy insisted, moving toward the Wonkavator.
"Considering that her home burned down, staying here while that Schnozwanger was under construction was a natural conclusion - but did you actually ask her first? Girls are funny about that." Charlie said with all the wisdom of a typical 15 year old boy.
"Oh Charlie - you're so funny. She loves me, therefore she'll stay here." Willy laughed lightly. But something felt off about that statement - it pierced the rose-colored bubble around his mind.
"Willy," Charlie said in a warning tone, "Remember what happened with you said I had to leave my family behind? You made an assumption there too and look what it got you."
Willy's face fell. Darn it!
Stupid reality.
Sighing, he turned toward the young man, "Alright - you're dead right. I'll talk to her when she gets back and find out what's on her mind. I guess I'm only wishing she'll stay."
Crisply clapping his hands, his smile brightened once more, "Besides, I can still be happy that she loves me. Now don't dwadle Charlie, we're heading to the invention room. I've been inspired - I think I know what the heck is going on with the meal-in-a-stick of gum. It'll only take a little bit and then we can head down to dinner when Veronica gets back."
The boy sighed and followed the scampering Chocolatier. He was nearly impossible like this.
--
Sunlight was fading from the early winter sky as she trekked back toward the factory laden with several bags of presents. Veronica kept a wary eye on the surrounding crowd, but no one in particular seemed to be paying any more attention than the usual.
The rest of the visit had been more light-hearted, although it was with grim determination that when things threatened to get too maudlin, one of the other two would start some silly argument about the most inane topic they could conceive of – ranging from 'the sex life of smurfs' or 'did Darth Vader use Windex or Turtle Wax on the helmet.'
Veronica crossed the street, pausing to allow a car to glide by before hopping over the accumulated sludge on the curb passing a black Land Rover parked by a light post. A man loitered by the entrance to an apartment building and she offered him a small smile and a short, "Merry Christmas" as she passed.
"Excuse me. Miss?" the man said softly.
She turned and the flash of light caught her full in the eyes. She staggered back, covering her face from the sporadic flashes of light, "Hey! What the…?"
"Ms. Carmichael, are you dating Willy Wonka?"
"How long have you been lovers?"
"Is it true that you're after him for the money?"
"What's your favorite recipe?"
Veronica dimly made out the small crowd of reporters surrounding her. The flashing bulbs threw globular purple specks in front of her eyes. The bodies, closed in, cutting off her escape route. Scared, she edged toward the silent apartment building, trying to put her back against something solid.
"Ms. Carmichael, what is your connection to the building fire on 123 Bradshaw St on 28 November of this year?
"What do you say to the criminal charges brought against you by Victor Brahm?"
The protruding microphones and flashing light made a dignified escape impossible, so she threw herself forward, pushing bodies aside with streaming eyes to make a break for the open street beyond. There were several aborted tugs on her coat and bags, but she was free.
There were several angry shouts and more yelled questions, but she was clear of the crowd and ran for her life down the street.
She heard the confused yelling and slamming of car doors followed by the turn over of several engines. Her heart pounded with fear and she felt cold sweat trickling down her back under her coat.
They were coming after her.
Veronica put her head down and sprinted as hard as she could with the slippery snow underfoot. She could see the looming gates up ahead. If she could make it that far, she'd be safe. Slipping, she nearly lost her footing, but ungracefully recovered, nearly dropping her bag in the process. The black Land Rover cut her off and she dodged around it as the occupants tried to tumble out.
"Ms. Carmichael!"
"Comment please…"
"Hey lady! Look this way…"
She slammed into the gates, frantically jerking on them screaming, "Let me in! Help!"
There was a click at the small side gate and she lurched toward it only to be caught by a short balding man in a black coat, "Here, Ms. Carmichael. Calm down and just answer a few questions…"
She shoved him aside, panting with fear and threw herself through the smaller gate, pushing it closed with all her strength before sprinting for the dark ominous entryway of the factory – a sight that never looked so comforting to her.
Veronica ran inside and slammed the door shut before leaning against it to slide to the floor, gasping and sobbing. They were animals! A panic attack was rising and she felt the breath burning in her throat as her eyesight darkened at the corners. She felt hot and cold at the same time. Closing her eyes she tried to slow her breathing down before she passed out.
She felt small hands patting her shoulder and looked up to see a few of the workers surrounding her concernedly. "Ver-Oni-Ka! What happened you? Why were they chasing you?" asked one.
"What's your name?" she asked foggily, managing to calm down to speak intelligently, although she still trembled from the adrenaline rush.
"I am O-Li. Please, what is going on?"
"That was the media, O-Li. Apparently news has leaked out of Mr. Wonka and I and the outside world finds this of great interest," she sniffed, wiping her face on the backs of her hands before pushing herself to her feet. "Where is Willy? I need to talk to him about this?"
"Won-Ka is in the invention room. Please, let us escort you there. You still look quite shaken," O-Li offered. One of the other workers stepped forward, "Let me take those bags back to your room for you, along with your coat and bag if you wish."
She nodded and quickly divested herself. She followed O-Li to the ever waiting Wonkavator. It was a little known secret that there were in fact seven Wonkavators, but only three were capable of leaving the factory. She was thankful as the journey that would have taken at least an hour to walk only took a moment of two in the high velocity mode of transportation.
There was a simple door with a warning sign on it looking rather like a bank vault. O-Li pressed an intercom button by the side of the closed door. "Won-Ka?"
A beat or two later and Charlie's voice came on instead, "He's occupied at the moment? What's up?"
"Ver-Oni-Ka is here – she needs to talk to Won-Ka with great urgency."
Charlie grunted and suddenly the door started to swing open with ponderous weight. The bloody thing must weigh well over a ton, she thought to herself.
Charlie's head popped out, "Hi Ms. Carmichael, Willy and I were…" he broke off seeing her tear-stained face, "Uh-Oh. What happened?"
Veronica stepped inside past Charlie, "Where is he?"
Charlie pointed and she saw Willy's feet in their pointed black boots poking out from under some strange machine, "Hey Charlie? Hand me the 3/8 Griply please? Two more turns and we should have it…"
Veronica strode over and knelt down to pull the man by his trousers out from under the machine with no warning. There was a sharp cry of surprise and Willy's grease-smudged face appeared. He had taken off his coat and wore an apron over the vest and shirt. Heavy work gloves concealed his hands.
"Veronica! You're back." His happy smile faded to concern, "Why are you crying?"
He collected her closer and hugged her with comforting warmth, "Are you alright? What happened?"
"I was attacked," she said into his shoulder. He released her suddenly to peer into her eyes, "I'm fine. Really."
"Who was it ... I'll call Cavenaugh and get them right over here.."
"Willy. It was the media."
He froze, eyes confused, "Why were they stalking you?"
Veronica just looked at him with sadness in her eyes.
"We need to talk."