The Candymakers and the Great Chocolate Chase

by Wendy Mass

  So he threw things back into the box, mumbled an excuse to Logan, and ran off, cringing as he pretended not to hear Logan calling after him. He needed to find out if the original Candymaker got his job by stealing something that belonged to someone else. There had to be some information in the library that would help.

  He figured he’d be alone in there, but as he approached the library, he could see Sabrina though the glass wall. She was standing at the candy bar display table, peering closely at the items.

  Miles pushed the door open slowly so he wouldn’t startle her.

  Sabrina looked up, then broke into a grin. “Sounds great!” she said.

  Miles smiled back and set down the box. “Tastes even better!”

  They both laughed. “Guess you’ve heard, too!” she said.

  “Yup! Mr. Sweet just told me in the Harmonicandy Room.”

  “All us suits love the slogan!” Sabrina said.

  Miles laughed again. “I didn’t know you knew people called you that. Even though I’ve never seen you in a suit. Or, like, a dress.”

  “We think it’s funny,” Sabrina said. “And it’s true that being on the business end is very different from the work of all the people who actually make things.” She pointed down at the table. “I was just in here researching a good font to use. The art director wants to find one that hasn’t been on any other wrappers before but still feels like it belongs.” She lifted the fake Magic Bar and the real Oozing Crunchorama. “I was thinking something between the two of these.”

  “The Magic Bar wrapper is a little old-fashioned looking,” Miles said. “It’s sparkly, but the rest of the design is kind of like a sign you’d see in an antiques store.”

  “That’s part of its charm,” Sabrina said, admiring it and setting it back down. “But I see what you mean. Well, gotta run. We have to print up a bunch of banners to hang for the Kickoff tomorrow.” She tipped her cap at Miles in a salute and dashed out.

  Miles straightened the Magic Bar and turned his attention toward the row of pamphlets Mrs. Gepheart had added to the display. Maybe there was something about the history of the factory that he’d missed before. He grabbed the whole stack of them and stuck them on top of the stuff in the box. He left a note in his neatest handwriting telling Mrs. Gepheart he’d return them first thing in the morning.

  As he set the note on the table, he noticed a framed black-and-white photo very close to the edge. He moved it a few inches so it wouldn’t slide off. He’d seen this Opening Day photo before. A larger version hung on the wall in Logan’s apartment, and in one or two other places in the factory, too. It showed a very young Sam—he didn’t look older than twenty—standing on the front steps of the factory with two other men in suits and hats and two women in dresses, all holding a Life Is Sweet banner. He knew the woman to Sam’s right was Logan’s grandmother Florence, who had passed away before Logan was born. But when once he’d asked who the others were, Logan just shook his head and said it was a mystery, that even his dad didn’t know.

  Miles lifted the picture and squinted at it, as though a clue to their identities might jump out at him. The factory was much, much smaller than it was today, and their clothes were really old-fashioned. That same old milk jug sat on the porch steps! It didn’t look so old then, though.

  But no names were scribbled on the picture… at least not on the front. He turned the picture over and was about to slide it out of the frame to check the back, when he heard the library door shut behind him. Without thinking, he tossed the photo into his box and folded up the flaps.

  He turned around to see Philip watching him. “You know that stealing is a crime, right?” Philip asked, pointing at the box. He tried to look stern as he said it, but Miles could tell he wasn’t too serious about teasing him. After all, Philip’s strict, unreasonable, candy-hating father had just given him permission to go on the road trip. Even Philip couldn’t pretend he wasn’t in a good mood, and Philip was a good actor.

  “Why are you still here?” Miles asked, changing the subject. He didn’t want to have to show anyone what was in the box until he had more answers than questions. He pushed past Philip into the hall.

  “I’m not still here,” Philip said as he followed. “I mean, I’m leaving.” He pointed toward the front hall. “See?”

  Reggie was heading toward them, swinging a key chain on his finger. “Gotta get moving, Philip. Hello, Miles.”

  “Hi, Reggie.” Miles gave a nod of his head, since his arms were full.

  “Need a lift home?” Reggie asked.

  Miles’s eyes widened. “Did you bring the limo?”

  “Actually, I did,” Reggie said. “I just dropped Mr. Ransford at the airport.”

  “I thought he wasn’t leaving until tomorrow night,” Philip said.

  “His meeting was moved up a day.”

  Philip looked like he wanted to say more, but he pressed his lips tight instead.

  “I’ll even let you play with the divider,” Reggie said. “Philip and his brother used to love putting it up and down when they were little.”

  Philip grunted and trudged after them. Miles knew Philip wouldn’t want him along for the ride—he didn’t like to mix his home life and his factory life—but no way was Miles turning this opportunity down! Who knew when he’d ever get to ride in something as cool as a limousine again! He gave Reggie his address and pushed to the back of his head any concerns over whether Samuel Sweet had founded the factory based on a lie. He’d worry about that later.

  The inside of the car looked even bigger than the outside! Miles put the box at his feet and bounced up and down on the soft seat. Philip climbed in after him, and Reggie shut the door. Miles beamed as he took in the wood-paneled walls, the long windows, the plush carpet. He wanted to slip his sneakers off and run his toes through it, but he knew Philip would hate that (which made it even more tempting!). “This is the life!” he said.

  “Don’t get too used to it,” Philip grumbled.

  Miles used the phone built into the car to tell his mom he’d saved her the drive.

  As the limo pulled away, Miles pressed the button to put up the window between the front of the car and the back. The top of Reggie’s head kept appearing and disappearing. Reggie was right—that was fun! “How long has your family had this car?” Miles asked. “How many people can fit in here? Does this thing have a TV?”

  Philip didn’t answer.

  Miles’s thoughts turned to the trip. “I’ve never stayed overnight anywhere,” he admitted. “Except at my grandparents’ once and at the factory a few times. I bet you’ve traveled a lot.”

  Philip shrugged. “I guess. With my family or on school trips. Not with my fr…” He trailed off and turned toward the window.

  “It’s okay,” Miles said with a nudge. “You can admit we’re your friends.”

  Philip just grunted again.

  A few minutes later the car pulled up in front of Miles’s house. He noticed Philip staring out the window at it. He was probably thinking how small it was in comparison to the huge house he lived in. Miles had never been invited over, though, so he could only imagine what kind of house the town’s most successful businessman owned.

  “Do you, um, want to come in?” Miles asked. Logan had been over many times, and Daisy a few times, too. Philip had never accepted his invitation, though.

  Philip shook his head. “Gotta pack,” he mumbled.

  Miles gave Philip a long look. Maybe he wasn’t pretending to be annoyed at Miles after all. Maybe he really was annoyed. “I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have accepted the ride,” he said. “I know you’re a really private person and all.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Philip said, still watching out the window. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

  He seemed sincere enough. Miles nodded. “Anything you want to talk about?”

  Philip quickly shook his head again.

  “Okay, then. See you tomorrow for the Kickoff.” Miles saw his dad come out
of the house, and it felt weird waiting for Reggie to open the door, so he let himself out.

  His dad whistled as they watched the car pull away from the curb. “You sure are coming up in the world, son.”

  “Yup. Soon I’ll be flying off in my private plane.”

  “I thought it was just a road trip,” his dad joked, taking the box from him.

  “So I’m really going?” Miles asked.

  “Oh, you’re going, mister. Your mom and I are already planning some nice child-free activities after work each day.”

  “I’ll try not to take that personally.”

  “What’s in here, anyway?” his dad asked, placing the box on their front-hall table. “Candy?” he asked, his voice full of hope.

  “Sorry, just some research on the factory.” He was used to telling his parents most of the truth without telling them all of it.

  Miles’s mom came in from the kitchen, holding a piece of paper. “Mrs. Sweet read me off the packing list so I could get started,” she said. “All you need to do is add your toothbrush in the morning and a book or two for pleasure reading on the long car rides.”

  “Wow, you really are anxious for me to leave!” Miles said, only half joking. His mother came over and put her arms around him. “I will miss you every second you’re gone.” He believed her.

  That night in bed Miles stared at the ceiling, thinking about what he’d read. Only one of Sam’s pamphlets included anything to do with the founding of the company. It focused more on the steady growth of the company but still gave a brief history of the small-town boy turned candymaker.

  After he won the big contest, Sam chose not to have any of the other candy companies manufacture the Pepsicle for him. He used some of the money he’d won to take classes at the local business school and to purchase supplies to test more candy recipes. His goal was to make, in addition to the Pepsicle, a chewy candy, a hard candy, and a chocolate bar. When he had all four ready to go, he put the rest of the money into opening the factory. Many of the members of the Confectionary Association chipped in to help him, and Sam repaid their generosity in the years that followed by always being willing to help other candymakers in any way he could.

  While the pamphlet was very inspiring and educational, it didn’t include any mention of secret beans, half-burned contracts, or a mysterious place that had to be protected at all costs.

  Miles flopped around some more. Even tracing paths through the maps he’d taped up on his walls didn’t help him relax like it usually did. His latest addition had been a gift from Henry for his birthday last month. It was a pencil drawing of a small village—not much more than a sketch, really—but it gave Miles a warm feeling, as though the mapmaker who drew it truly loved that place.

  Then he sat bolt upright as a new thought struck him. Maybe the contract had just been a joke, like a gag or something! Why hadn’t he thought of that before? Logan had said that Sam enjoyed a good prank every now and again. Maybe that’s all this was! Sam and his friends being goofy—like he and his friends could be sometimes!

  Miles grinned. Now he could put the worry behind him and focus on the trip. He glanced around his dark room. Goodbye, desk. Goodbye, bed. Goodbye, house. He giggled to himself and thought of the picture book his mom had read to him when he was a child, the one where you’re supposed to say good night to the moon. The next time he saw the moon, it would be out a different window!

  He kicked off his covers and got his glasses from his night table. The window over his bed was already open a few inches to let in the breeze, so he pushed it the rest of the way and stuck his head out. “Goodbye, moon,” he whispered. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a flash of light sped across the sky in front of him. Then another! A person less skilled in astronomy might have thought Spring Haven was putting on a fireworks display.

  But Miles knew better. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about the meteor shower expected to start that night in the wake of that big comet he kept hearing about on the news! He propped his elbows up on the windowsill and watched. Usually he would go get his parents to watch with him, but now his first thought was to wonder what Logan and Daisy and Philip were doing at that moment and whether they were seeing this light show.

  He reached over the side of the bed and pulled the vid com out of his suitcase. It was definitely too late to contact any of them, but he could at least record it for them so they wouldn’t miss it. Logan had taught him about watching the clouds turn into bunnies and castles and ducks; the least he could do was teach Logan about watching the stars turn into fireworks.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Tuesday

  The doorbell rang at the O’Learys’ house early the next morning. “I’ll get it!” Miles shouted, bounding down the stairs. He looked out the window like he’d been taught. He certainly wasn’t going to open it for someone he didn’t know, especially not while he still wore his pajamas! But he did know the person standing on the front porch. He flung the door open. “Hi, Arthur and Fluffernutter! Were we supposed to go geocaching today?”

  The puppy wagged her tail, slapping it against the door with a thwak. She dropped a soggy stuffed lamb that must have once been white on the porch and prodded it with her nose. Arthur shook his head. “I just came to give you this.” He held out his hand and presented Miles with a small yellow gift bag.

  Miles took it, surprised. “You know it’s not my birthday, right?”

  “I do indeed!” Arthur said. “Your mom was in the library yesterday afternoon when she got the call about your trip. This is a care package from me and Tina. Jade pitched in, too. It’s a little random, I admit, but short notice and all.”

  Miles eagerly dug into the bag. There was a red envelope with his name on the front in another ancient language, a packet of tissues, two bags of potato chips, a pair of soft blue-and-yellow-striped socks, a deck of playing cards, and a paperback copy of Let’s Go Geocaching! with some pages bent back at the corners.

  Miles held up the card. “Old Hebrew?”

  “Close. It’s Aramaic.”

  “Nice,” Miles said, nodding approvingly. He stuck it carefully into the book.

  “I marked off some of my favorite parts for you,” Arthur said. “I figured if you’re out on the road, you might have a chance to find some caches. You’ll have to set up your own account, though, so you can start keeping track of them.”

  “I will!” Miles promised. “I’ll teach my friends, too.”

  “Hello, Arthur,” Miles’s dad said, joining them at the door. The men shook hands. “Would you like to come in?”

  “Sure,” Arthur said. “I won’t impose too long. I know it’s early.”

  “Not at all. I’ll make you some tea. Susan will be home soon.” They headed toward the kitchen together, Fluffernutter following obediently behind.

  Miles was glad his dad hadn’t mentioned that the reason Mom had run out so early was because she was buying him underwear for the trip. Apparently his old pairs weren’t “road trip–worthy,” whatever that meant!

  He listened by the stairs for a minute, and when the conversation turned to sports, he ran upstairs to get dressed. As soon as his mother got home, they would all head off to the factory. He thought it was really cool that Mrs. Sweet had invited his parents to be in the room for the first tasting.

  He added the care package from the Wus, and after the addition of his new undies, his suitcase would be ready to go. He’d already packed the pile of books from his night table because who was his mom kidding if she thought one or two would be enough? He’d also added a few of Sam’s journals and the Map of Awe.

  His globe would have to stay on his desk. It would be strange not to be here each night to give it a spin and then learn about where his finger landed. He’d just have to spin it seven times in a row when he returned. He thought about bringing some of his homemade maps, but he knew he wouldn’t have much privacy—if any at all—to work on them, and he wasn’t ready to share them yet.


  He picked up the small brown notebook with the faded words. He had wrapped a fresh rubber band around it to hold it closed. It occurred to him now that this was the only notebook Sam had taken any trouble to securely close. Maybe because he’d stuck the fake contract in it and didn’t want it to fall out, or maybe he had some other reason.

  Stepping in front of the window, Miles undid the rubber band and opened the notebook again. He thought for a minute. He knew from his reading on creating alphabets and codes that if you found a piece of paper that had been sitting underneath a piece that had been written on, you could rub the side of a pencil over the blank page to pick up the indentations that had been pressed into the paper. Maybe that would work with the notebook.

  He pulled a sharp pencil out of his desk drawer and gently rubbed the edge over the first few seemingly blank lines. The occasional tiny part of a letter showed up, but that was all. He ran his finger over the page. There really wasn’t much indentation left behind. The years must have flattened out the pages. That, or Sam had written very lightly. Or both.

  He tossed the notebook into his suitcase and zippered it shut before he found more stuff to shove in.

  He stuck the pamphlets into his backpack and realized he’d forgotten to check the back of the old photo for names. The clips holding the frame together were rusty, but Miles twisted them carefully, and the front and back practically fell into two pieces. He lifted out the photo and held it up to the light. Spring Haven Photographs & Fur was embossed on the bottom in fancy lettering. Photographs and fur? That was a random combination! He put the frame back together. The identity of the unknown people posing with Logan’s grandparents would have to remain a mystery until he returned.

  Miles heard Fluffernutter bark, and then his dad’s and Arthur’s voices got louder as they moved from the kitchen toward the front door. They were laughing about both of them having the same favorite baseball player and remember when he did that backflip out in right field after he caught a pop fly? Miles was glad they’d finally found something in common to talk about, even if it wasn’t as exciting as geocaching.