Author's Note: After all this time, I finally caught covid. So of course I decide to edit my NaNo chapters now. The brain fog will work great for this. (No I did not write 50k words on this story for NaNo, but I did at least get a few chapters drafted.)


The kiss was soft and warm. More gentle and imminently more satisfying than their first kiss, which had been unplanned, unexpected, and fraught with the adrenaline of the moment. Willy had never kissed anyone like this. He had never been kissed like this.

Even when it ended, he still had Amalda's face cradled in his hands and her arms were twined around his neck. Her fingers gently carded through the hair at the nape of his neck and he pressed his forehead against hers, eyes closed, savoring the moment and trying to commit it to memory.

"I missed you," he breathed against her skin.

She hummed a laugh. "You hardly know me." He pulled back and found her face alight with mischief. "Getting almost blown up doesn't count. We've spent less than a day together."

"Says the only woman who's ever been in my bed," he quipped back with a grin, though it was somewhat ruined by his blush.

Amalda blushed as well and stepped back, smacking him playfully on the chest. "Julia's probably watching through the curtains and we're making a spectacle."

Willy smirked. "When has that ever bothered me?" Then, abruptly, "Come back to the factory." She blinked at him. "Not now. Tomorrow, for dinner. No, not tomorrow…Sunday. Your shop is closed on Sundays, correct? Come for Sunday dinner."

She hesitated. "I…it will be real food, right? Not just chocolate and candy?"

Willy laughed. "If I say no, would that stop you?"

"Oh no," she said fervently. "I'd just eat a real meal beforehand."

"Real food," Willy promised. "Cross my heart." He covered her hand with his where it still rested against his chest from earlier.

"All right, I'll be there. And…Willy?" The way she said his name made something inside him sing. Her smile was soft. "I missed you too."


Amalda had a problem.

It was Sunday morning and she sat in front of her mirror, frowning at her reflection.

What did one wear to dinner at a chocolate factory? What did one wear to a date with the eccentric candy king?

"I should have gone shopping yesterday," she muttered at herself.

It wouldn't have helped. She would have come home with an armful of clothes, something she could actually afford to do now, and still no real idea of what might be appropriate.

In the end, she wore a simple cream blouse with one of her favorite skirts. It was a deep brown (a chocolate brown, a small voice in her head chimed in helpfully) that went well with the blouse, and was dotted with small strawberries. The outfit wasn't very elegant or very, well, sexy, but it was very much her. And she very much wanted Willy to see her.

It was just cool enough to need a light jacket and Amalda had no sooner wrapped herself up in it and stepped outside than a shiny black car rolled up to the curb in front of the shop. A tall, thin man stepped smoothly out of it and nodded at her. "Ms. McCaine."

"Hello again, Mr. Wilkinson," she said with a smile. He had phoned the day before, with the information that Willy had instructed she be picked up an hour before dinner. "Thank you, this is very kind."

He nodded to her. "It's my job, madam," he replied, not unkindly, as he opened the door and helped her into the car.

While the walk would have been long, the drive was short and mostly silent. Mr. Wilkinson did not stop at the front gates of the factory but drove around to the back, where a solid but unassuming wall ringed this side of the property that was out of the public's sight. As the car approached, tall doors swung open as if by magic. Amalda wondered how it worked, imagining a pair of Oompa Loompas perched within like miniature castle guards, watching for Mr. Wilkinson's return.

To her surprise, they did not approach the back doors of the factory but drove around to the side of the courtyard to where a neat cottage waited. Amalda pressed closer to the window. "What is this?" she asked over her shoulder. "Who lives here?"

"This is Mr. Bucket's residence," he replied, parking the car to one side of the cottage's front walk. After he opened the passenger door and helped Amalda out, he continued, "Mr. Wonka dines frequently with the Bucket family."

"Oh," was all she could think of to say. She wondered if a family dinner with the Buckets was more or less intimate than a private date with Willy Wonka. On the one hand, less like a date. On the other hand, one didn't usually bring a date home to meet the family until one was quite committed.

She was still musing about it when the door burst open, spilling warm yellow light into the courtyard. "Amalda!" Charlie Bucket came bounding out of the cottage. For a moment she thought he might actually embrace her, but he stopped short, beaming at her instead. "I'm so glad to see you! And you're okay! And you write books! And-and I'm so sorry, you got my letter right?" He was so earnest and so serious and so excited that Amalda had to smother a laugh.

"I am and I do and I did," she replied. He nodded and a breath of relief whooshed out of him before he gallantly offered her his arm only slightly awkwardly, blushing a bit over the gesture he'd rarely had to make yet at his age. Amalda stepped forward and slid her hand into place easily, patting his arm reassuringly. "Thank you for inviting me into your home."

The inside of the cottage was as neat and tidy as the outside, with a fire crackling merrily in the hearth. A round table had been set for four and Willy already sprawled casually in one of the chairs, chin resting on his elbow as an older man with a halo of frizzy hair chattered at him animatedly. The old man wasn't sitting at the table but in a comfy rocker just beyond it, and Amalda noted several such chairs around the room. Charlie caught her glance and explained, "My grandparents all live here too, but they don't always feel up to joining us for meals."

Amalda nodded in understanding, immediately sent back to her time caring for her own father. How had Mrs. Bucket managed, with her job and not one but four elders to care for, plus a child?

Willy's laughter distracted her before she could get too far into her maudlin thoughts. He was turned slightly away from her, and though she was certain he had noticed her arrival, he nonetheless kept his full attention on Charlie's grandfather. Only when his story concluded did Willy at last turn to look at her, his blue eyes glittering in the warm light of the fire. He was wearing a pale blue shirt that matched his eyes, and looked casually at home amongst the Bucket family. He looked happy and content, only the fingers tapping a staccato beat against his knee belying his nerves. He quirked an eyebrow at her. Amalda felt heat rise into her cheeks as she realized she'd been staring.

Charlie stepped between them, obliviously breaking the moment. "Amalda, this is my Grandpa Joe."

Amalda came back to herself quickly. "Pleased to- Oh no, please don't-!" But it was too late; Joe had shoved himself shakily to his feet. He took the hand she had half-extended in greeting and bowed over it a tad unsteadily. At least it gave her another, less embarrassing, reason to blush.

"My dear, I've heard so much about you," Joe said, his voice gravelly but welcoming.

"Thank you," Amalda said shyly, then turned to Charlie. "Does your mother need any help?"

As if on cue, Mrs. Bucket came bustling out of the kitchen, a large pot held in mittened hands. "Amalda, welcome! Perfect timing."

Amalda found herself quickly seated with Willy on her left and Mrs. Bucket on her right. Joe was passed a tray so that he could enjoy the meal from his comfortable chair. The banter remained lighthearted throughout, mostly Willy and Charlie updating his family on the daily events within the factory, and Amalda talking a little bit about her latest book.

Willy's hand brushed hers a few times in passing, but otherwise she could almost forget that this was meant to be a date. Although the glances he sent her way and the intensity when their gazes met kept her from relaxing completely.

When the meal was done, Amalda immediately stood and offered to help with the dishes. Mrs. Bucket, though grateful, only shooed her away with a laugh. "I think Willy has other plans for you, dear."

"Plans?" Amalda turned to find Willy also on his feet, grinning at her as he offered her his arm. She tucked her fingers into the crook of his elbow and he immediately covered her hand with his own.

"Dessert," he said in a low voice that made Amalda's knees wobble, then he startled as Mrs. Bucket smacked him playfully with a napkin.

"Don't make it sound so salacious, Willy," she said, sounding every bit the mildly exasperated mother. "Amalda, if he's not a perfect gentlemen, you let me know."

Amalda laughed. "I don't think I need to worry but thank you, Mrs. Bucket. And for the meal, it was truly lovely to meet you all properly."

"I do hope we'll see you again," came the knowing reply.

Then Willy was guiding her out the door and into the deepening twilight.

"Where are we going?" she asked curiously. Willy was heading toward the factory, but not toward the doors.

Belatedly, she noticed a ladder crawling up the side of the building.

Amalda stopped so quickly that her grip on Willy's arm almost caused him to stumble. "Oh no," she said. "If you think I'm scaling a ladder…in this skirt!"

Willy looked about to protest and then paused. "I hadn't thought of that," he confessed. He stared perplexedly into the sky for a moment, looking so adorably abashed that she took pity on him.

"You go first," she ordered.

"But what if you slip?" he protested.

Amalda rolled her eyes. "You think I spent all that time at the zoo without knowing my way around a ladder?" She gave him a playful shove. "Get going, mister."

Of course, the building was a bit taller than the ladders Amalda was used to, and her shoes weren't her functional work boots, and the draft from her skirt was particularly unsettling. She glanced down once, worried if some stray Oompa Loompas might happen by and get a show, but the grounds were dark and dizzyingly empty. The height took her breath away and she carefully focused on pulling herself up each rung of the ladder after that.

When they at last reached the top, Willy helped her over the ledge and the firm grip of his hands on her waist burned through her, and if it seemed like his hands lingered just a hair before he stepped back to a more respectable distance, surely it wasn't all in her imagination.

Amalda's breath caught when she saw what awaited them on the roof of the building. Being a factory, the roof itself was far from glamorous, but a small table had been set up in one corner. It was draped with a white table cloth and had an elegant lantern at the center, already glowing with just enough light to illuminate the intimate setting. Covered silver trays sat before each of the two place settings.

"For you, dear lady," Willy said, pulling out one of the chairs for her.

Amalda gave him a smile and a silly curtsy before sitting. "Why, thank you, sir."

This was more like what she had been expecting. Not so much on a rooftop, but…she had to admit, the view was spectacular. Amalda tilted her head back to take in the myriad stars overhead.

"The star candy doesn't really do them justice, does it?" Willy whispered in her ear and Amalda shivered, glancing back at him. His hands rested lightly on the back of her chair as he glanced between her and the night sky. Her breath caught as she stared up at his profile.

After a moment, he seemed to come back to himself, clearing his throat as he took his own seat.

Amalda reached for the silver lid in front of her, then hesitated when Willy didn't do the same.

He had placed both elbows on the table, chin resting on his knitted fingers as he leaned forward in anticipation. "Go on," he said with a nod.

She eyed him suspiciously, then returned her attention to the dish. Lifting the lid carefully, she gasped in delight. "Oh, Willy…"

A miniature bouquet rested artfully on the delicate plate. Roses in red and white and yellow with spun sugar petals, licorice stems and leaves carved from the thinnest, curling wafers. She touched one of the petals gently. "You made this?"

Willy hummed his assent. "A brand new product, for your eyes only."

"And it's edible?"

"Every last bit."

She pulled off one of the leaves and popped it into her mouth. It melted on her tongue and suffused her senses in fresh mint. "So much flavor in such a small thing!" she gasped.

"You know," Willy said, amusement coloring his voice. "I'm not half bad at this candy-making thing."

"Oh hush," Amalda laughed. "As if your ego needs boosting." But her expression softened as she smiled him. "It's beautiful. Thank you." She nudged the plate in his direction. "Share?"

They finished the flowers together, Amalda exclaiming in delight when she discovered each colored rose had a different flavor. "These are so much better than receiving real flowers," she said at last, unashamedly licking the sugar from her fingers. "Real flowers smell lovely, but then you have to watch them slowly die. This way is better. It'll be another Wonka bestseller, I'm sure," she teased.

Willy beamed, and Amalda nodded at the remaining covered dish. "And that one?"

"Ah!" He smoothly switched the empty flower dish with the covered one, gesturing for her to do the honors with a flourish.

As she reached for the lid, Amalda noticed his fingers tapping a light, rapid beat on the table as his eyes darted back and forth from her face to the tray. He was nervous about this one, she realized. Gripping the silver handle, Amalda took a deep breath and lifted.

Another dessert, this one arranged equally as beautifully. Star candies were sprinkled around the edge of the deep blue plate in a spiral, all shades of silver and gold. Here and there, a few small clusters mimicked constellations, and if she squinted, one looked a bit like a W and one like an A. But it was the center of the dish that arrested her attention and Amalda went still as she took it in.

A large, elaborate key, crafted from some kind of hard, golden candy and dusted with sugar. One end was adorned with a silver circlet featuring Wonka Industries signature looping "W" logo. It caught the candlelight and glittered up at Amalda like a wish, like a dream, like a promise.

"Willy," she breathed, "what is this?"

"It's candy," he said, in a tone so casual that she knew his bantering tone was a ruse.

She lifted her eyes from the delectable treat to look at him. "Usually giving someone a key to your place is an invitation to move in." There was a question hidden in her statement.

His smile was carefully nonchalant. "That would be presumptuous of me at this stage, wouldn't it?"

It wasn't a no.

Willy leaned forward, placing his hands over hers where they rested on either side of the dish. "What do you want it to mean, Amalda?" A shiver ran down her spine at the way he said her name. "It's not a real factory key, nor would you be able to enter with just a single key even if it was. It's…an invitation. I would like to see you again, as often as you'll have me, but I can't…it's difficult for me to leave the factory grounds." He stumbled over the last few words.

Amalda turned her hands so that their fingers entwined and gave him an encouraging squeeze. Willy shot her a grateful smile.

"So this is an invitation, officially. Come to the factory anytime you like. Stroll through the Chocolate Room with me and taste every creation. Join us for dinner any day." He held up a hand when she looked like she might protest. "Mrs. Bucket insisted, I had nothing to do with that one." Amalda laughed softly. "Let me show you the Inventing Room, safely, and all of the things I'm dreaming of." Let me show you myself, Amalda heard the unspoken words.

Tears pricked her eyes. "Willy, I…" He looked so vulnerable, sitting just there, so close but so far, his face so full of hope. "Of course," she told him, squeezing his hands. "Of course, I would love that."

At once his face lit up, eyes dancing, and Amalda rose to her feet without even consciously thinking about it. Willy stood as she crossed the small space around the table and, without pausing, wrapped her arms around him, burying her nose in the crook of his neck. His arms settled around her waist and she felt him sigh in contentment.

"I can't wait to get to know you, Amalda McCaine," he murmured into her hair.