AN:

Thanks again for your reviews. Reviews keep me motivated, and with finals coming up, I'm going to need all the motivation I can get to stay on top of things. But never fear: The plot outline for this story is complete, so now I only have to put my ideas into words. Let's hope my muse doesn't abandon me now!

"Mum, we're back!" Charlie's voice sounded from the front door, alerting the two busy women that the trio had returned. Wiping her hands clean on a ratty dish towel, Mrs. Bucket handed it to Rowena so she could do the same.

"Well, let's see what sort of trouble they found, shall we?" Winking to her, Mrs. Bucket linked her arm with Rowena's and led her back into the adjoining room. Charlie appeared wild with excitement, already seated beside Grandpa Joe and animatedly beginning to tell him of the last hour's events.

"Now, Charlie," Mrs. Bucket scolded lightly, gesturing to Rowena to take a chair. "Slow down, dear. We all want to hear what happened, but wait until everyone's here together."

"But I thought we weren't supposed to speak about business at the table," Charlie reminded her, smiling innocently.

Exchanging a glance with her husband, Mrs. Bucket shrugged helplessly as she pulled the spare chair to the table. "Well, you're already at the table, and I'd say that under the circumstances we can make an exception."

Following the conversation between Charlie and his mother, Rowena felt a jolt run through her when a hand settled on the back of her chair. Easing himself gracefully into the seat beside her, Mr. Wonka was all smiles. "I certainly hope you didn't miss me while I was gone," he said sweetly, a little too sweetly. Knowing the answer he wished for her to supply, Rowena was sure not to give it to him.

"Actually, Mrs. Bucket and I were having a lovely time. I quite honestly lost track of the time while you were away." Mr. Wonka's smile did not falter, though his eyes seemed to sparkle. "Don't tease me," she mumbled nervously, positive that that was exactly what he was doing. As to why he was doing so, she hadn't the faintest idea.

"Now, my dear Miss Rowena Chantilly, what did I tell you about mumbling?" he chided.

"I was not mumbling," she argued primly, gripping the table's edge.

"Whatever you say."

"I wasn't!"

"I wouldn't have said you were if you were, in fact, not."

"What is it with you and mumbling, anyway? It isn't as if a person does it on purpose."

"Well, it's simply the fact that I can't understand a word you're saying when you do it. And that, Miss Rowena Chantilly, is terribly annoying."

Eyes blazing, Rowena turned in her chair so she was facing him directly, and sure enough, Mr. Wonka followed suit. Their knees almost touching, their argument continued without another pause.

"It's not as if I meant to, it just happened!"

"Ah-ha! So you admit it!" Willy was grinning in triumph, something that was quite aggravating to Rowena. Rather than accepting defeat, she quickly changed the subject, her voice soft yet sharp in its tone.

"Why do you insist on calling me by my full name, Mr. Wonka?"

"Well, it's your name, isn't it?"

"Yes, of course it is. But you don't call Charlie there Mr. Charles Bucket, and no one calls you Mr. William Wonka."

"'Cause that sounds weird." Was there no end to this man's strangeness? Was he honestly and blatantly unaware of how invalid his argument was?

"Well, if you're going to insist on calling me by my full name, you might as well add Victoria, too."

"Why would I do that?"

Sighing aloud, Rowena ran a hand through her blonde waves in agitation. "Because my full name is Rowena Victoria Chantilly. I'm trying to point out--"

"Then what would you like me to call you?" he interrupted abruptly, that strange serious tone of voice back again. That silenced her. Mouth agape in surprise, she suddenly and painfully realized that the room was still. Charlie and his family had witnessed their entire argument. Charlie was grinning, as were Grandpa Joe and Mr. Bucket. Mrs. Bucket seemed to emulate more sympathy than the rest, though she regarded the argumentative pair with a curious look in her eyes.

"Miss Chantilly or Rowena would be just fine," Rowena mumbled unintentionally, and was suddenly fearful that the argument would start up again. Hoping to keep such a thing from happening, she quickly spoke up, "Rowena! Call me Rowena!"

The silence was deafening as the whole room waited for Willy's reaction. Turning to face the table again, he adjusted his jacket before answering in his usual childish tone, "Well then. Rowena it is."

Clapping her hands together, Mrs. Bucket brought the attention back to her. "Stew's ready! I'll just go and get it."

The rest of the table's occupants politely averted their gazes, resuming some form of small talk.

"Victoria is a lovely middle name."

Those words had been uttered so softly from Mr. Wonka's lips, Rowena wondered for a moment if she was hearing things. He would not meet her eyes, choosing instead to serenely focus his attention on some vague painting hanging on the wall.

As surprised as she was, she couldn't help but respond with a teasing smile, "Who's mumbling now?"

Apparently, the others hadn't been as distracted as they'd appeared to be, for stifled chuckles were beginning to burst out. Another moment more and their chuckles turned into contagious laughter. Rowena was laughing as well, but that wasn't nearly as surprising as when Mr. Wonka burst into laughter along with the rest of them.

And so it was that a very pleased Mrs. Bucket returned to a cheerful, chuckling table, ladling stew into everyone's bowl with a grin. The delicious aroma of the stew worked as a calming effect on the group, and the laughter slowly dissipated while eating began.

"Well, Charlie, now you can tell us what happened," Mrs. Bucket invited, settling into her chair next to Mr. Bucket.

Charlie needed no further urging and began his narrative immediately. "It looks like someone tried to get into the factory through one of the docking bay doors, where the delivery trucks drive out of. They even pried it open a few inches."

Mr. Bucket nodded several times, pausing to swallow his stew before adding, "Looks like they used a crow bar. Can you imagine? Trying to break into a world famous factory in the middle of the day! It boggles the mind, it does."

"You should have seen the Oompa-Loompas, Grandpa Joe!" Charlie gushed, dropping his spoon in his excitement. "They were all over, looking for clues, taking pictures, examining footprints…"

"Yeah, my Oompa-Loompas certainly are thorough," Mr. Wonka spoke up. "Like little secret agents. They take these kinds of situations very seriously."

The subject of Oompa-Loompas was still a strange one for Rowena, seeing as she had no idea as to what they were exactly. She held her tongue, enjoying the warm stew that she had helped prepare.

"…so you'll have to stay here until they finish." She'd lost track of the conversation for a moment, but suddenly all eyes were on her.

"I'm sorry?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "What was that?"

"Well," Willy repeated, concentrating on his stew rather than looking her directly in the eye, "The Oompa-Loompas are conducting a full investigation and it is imperative that no one enters or leaves the factory for a little while. So you're going to have to stay here until they finish."

It was Rowena's turn to drop her spoon. Hastily grasping it back up, she let it sink into her stew before resting her hands in her lap. "I'm afraid that's not possible," she told Mr. Wonka carefully. "I have deadlines to make, and the office expects me back in town this evening."

"Well, you're just going to have to give 'em a ring and tell them the tour's lasting longer than you thought. 'Kay?"

"But that's not possible! Besides, it's highly unorthodox. I can't just--"

"Sure you can," Willy assured her, continuing to enjoy his stew as though there was no pressing issue at hand.

"You can stay with us if you like," Charlie piped up, ever the young gentleman. "We can make room."

"Oh, yes, of course!" Mrs. Bucket assured her, glancing around hastily. It was clear to Rowena that space was cramped, even though the pleasant family seemed perfectly happy in their tiny cottage. As much as she enjoyed their company, the last thing she wanted was to be a burden. They'd been so kind to her already.

"Nonsense," Mr. Wonka said serenely, finishing his stew and setting his spoon down with a clink. "I have guest rooms, you know. She can stay there."

This appeared to be news to everyone. Mrs. Bucket shared a concerned glance with her husband and Charlie appeared quite baffled. Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina seemed to be the only ones not privy to the conversation, each of them eating away noisily without a care in the world.

"I didn't know there were guest rooms," Charlie said honestly, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Sure I have guest rooms," Willy agreed nonchalantly. "I just never use them because I don't like guests."

A truly Wonka reply, Rowena mused. Well, at least that way she wouldn't be a burden to the Bucket family. Noticing that Mrs. Bucket was preparing to argue on her behalf, Rowena spoke up, "I'll just make a call to my office then, shall I?" This, in truth, was the last thing she wanted to do. The idea of staying overnight in the factory was not exactly appealing. Especially when her host was the enigmatic Mr. Wonka, how would she ever be at ease alone and in the dark in this strange place?

But there was no choice. She'd known that, even before she'd begun her hopeless argument. Already reeling from so many new and strange events in so short a timeframe, continuing the tour now seemed utterly impossible. She'd never be able to keep her head on straight, to look at the factory and its owner with a business minded eye.

As she rose smoothly from the table with briefcase in hand, Rowena was caught off guard for a moment when Mr. Wonka rose alongside her. Tipping his hat to her, she realized with muted pleasure that he was acting as a gentleman should. There was no end to Mr. Wonka's contrasting behavior.

"Excuse me a moment, please," she politely asked the table, slipping away when Mr. and Mrs. Bucket nodded with easy smiles. Quitting the house entirely, Rowena ambled through the confectionary grass until she was a few feet away. Fishing her cellphone out of her briefcase, she flipped it open and dialed one of her boss's numbers from memory.

"Hello, Geoffrey?" she asked when a man's voice picked up.

"Miss Chantilly! Pleasure to hear from you," Geoffrey Milton boomed on the other end. "Tell me, how are things going with Mr. Wonka and his factory? I must say that I'm terribly curious to hear all about it."

"Actually, something's come up," she told him reluctantly, glad that he wasn't there to see how she rung her free hand in the folds of her skirt. "The factory is extremely large, and I'm going to have to stay an extra night in order to see all of it."

"An extra night?" Geoffrey questioned, clear disapproval in his voice. "I've never heard of such a thing. All you need to do is to meet the man, take a look at his factory, and bring back your findings to us. It's a simple, standard procedure, Miss Chantilly."

"Yes, I know," Rowena sighed, shifting her weight nervously. Geoffrey Milton couldn't have been ten years older than her, yet he'd treated her like a mindless doll ever since she'd been hired by the company five years before. Even though the rest of her superiors seemed to recognize her excellent skills as an agent, Geoffrey couldn't seem to wrap his balding head around the matter. Were it not for the excellent pay and the mind numbing work that she desired so desperately, Rowena would have never have stayed working for such a man.

"But Geoffrey, it's just not as simple as that." Recalling Mr. Wonka's words from earlier, she continued, "Standard procedure doesn't always apply, I'm afraid, and especially not here. He has a wonderful factory, from what I've seen so far, but it's certainly…different."

"Different? Whatever do you mean, different?"

"Just…Geoffrey, please, take my word for it. I need to stay another night, and I won't ask the company to cover for my expenses or anything. Listen, today's Thursday, so I'll be home by Friday night, which means I can prepare a detailed report of my findings over the weekend. It works to our advantage, you see."

"No, I don't," the brute drawled, belittling her even over the phone. "But since you're giving me no other alternative, I guess that's just the way it has to be. But know this, Miss Chantilly; your behavior is very disappointing, very disappointing indeed. Any other agent would have had the job done in a timely manner, but the board insisted on sending you. You'd better have a damned brilliant report for us when you come back."

"Yes, of course, Geoffrey," she assured him, longing to end the conversation. "I promise you, nothing like this will ever happen again."

"No, it won't!" he all but shouted, and the line went dead.

Slapping her phone shut, she threw it back into her briefcase with unnecessary violence. Fists clenched, she kicked at the ground, utterly mortified and slightly enraged at the way the phonecall had gone. There were too many Geoffrey Miltons in the world, she thought glumly. One Geoffrey Milton, in fact, was one too many.

Turning about to go back inside the house, she froze as she realized she was not alone. At some point during her conversation, Mr. Wonka had apparently left the house to join her, leaning on his cane some six feet away from her.

"How long have you been there?" she asked him, clearly startled and praying he hadn't heard very much of her conversation.

"Sounds to me like your boss isn't a very good nut." What was he going on about now? So he had been listening, then?

"My boss is…old fashioned, that's all. Protocol is very important to him. I knew he wouldn't like my staying overnight."

"Being old fashioned is no excuse for being rude."

"No, it isn't," she agreed, taking two cautious steps closer towards him. "But it's just the way he is, so it truly doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters." She wondered what he could possibly mean by that. He was only her boss. Bosses were supposed to be demanding and unsatisfied.

"Why are you here, Mr. Wonka? Won't the others miss you?"

"Ah, well, I thought it was time you and I moved along."

"But I thought we weren't continuing our tour today."

"We won't be touring the factory, Rowena, but I thought you'd like to see a tour of the guest bedrooms. They're just as magical, marvelous and darn delicious as the rest of the factory."

It was strange to hear him call her by her first name. Strange, but…nice. And she didn't like that, not one bit.

"If you'll come this way, please," Willy continued, pointing to the path that wound around the house and back near the river. Picking up her briefcase, Rowena joined him on the path. They walked in silence, their pace leisurely. After a few moments, she recognized that they were nearing the doors they had entered in. Certain that she hadn't seen any other doors in the entry, she was curious where exactly he was leading her to.

"Mr. Wonka, where precisely are the guest rooms?"

"They're in another wing of the factory." Another cryptic answer. Rolling her eyes, she was preparing to press him for more information when the heel of her right foot caught on something on the path. She tumbled forward violently, throwing her arms up to break her own fall, preparing to meet the ground soon.

And suddenly Mr. Wonka's arms wrapped around her, holding her aloft a mere foot from the ground. She was face to face with the path, her hair cast wildly over her head and streaking the ground. In one swift motion he pulled her to her feet, pulling his arms away so quickly that Rowena couldn't help but wonder if she was unpleasant to touch. Something about him had changed, but she just couldn't put her finger on it. Something akin to shock and alarm filled his eyes, but he determinedly turned away from her. Scooping up his discarded cane, he used it to point at a shining candy apple, the culprit that had sent her flying.

"Must have fallen from the tree," he said stiffly, lining his cane up beside it like a golf club. With a powerful swing, the apple went sailing across the meadow, landing far on the other side of a rounded hill. "Now it won't ever bother us again," he said with satisfaction, nodding succinctly.

"Good shot," Rowena remarked, truly impressed. Turning to face her, Willy was caught off guard by her wry little grin. He returned it with one of his own, and for a moment the two simply smiled at one another.

"Thank you not letting me fall," she added, and his smile instantly fell. He said nothing in return, striding off on the path instead and leaving a bewildered Rowena behind. Shaking her head in confusion, she took a moment to remove her pumps, finding a way to fit them inside her already cramped briefcase. Jogging to catch up with him, she breathed a sigh of relief at the ease she now had in moving.

By now he had arrived at the doors they had entered in, which had somehow remained open since their entrance into the meadow. She followed him back into the entry, still struggling to keep up with his swift gait. He stopped abruptly, turning to face a part of the wall that seemed totally unremarkable to her eyes. One push from his gloved hand proved her wrong. The wall gave way instantly, swinging open to reveal a wide set of red carpeted steps.

Lips parted in amazement, she paused to examine the secret door, marveling at the craftsmanship that had hidden it so completely.

"Rowena, are you coming?" Mr. Wonka called, already several steps above her.

"Oh, yes, I'm coming!" she assured him, hastening to catch up with him.

If she thought the door alone was amazing, she was in for a very pleasant surprise.