The Candymakers and the Great Chocolate Chase

by Wendy Mass

  Philip figured he may as well be honest. Henry knew all about his dad anyway. “Mr. Sweet didn’t actually talk to my father about me going on the trip. It was my brother, Andrew, pretending to be my dad. He said he’d cover for me.”

  “I figured there was some explanation for your father’s apparent change of heart,” Henry said. “Are you still going?”

  “I think I am,” Philip said. “When will I have this opportunity again to be part of promoting a candy bar that I helped create? Let’s face it. I’m not going to be a candymaker when I grow up. You won’t tell, will you?”

  “I won’t tell what?” Henry asked innocently.

  “Thanks, Henry. Okay, your turn. Something’s going on with you.”

  After a slight pause, Henry admitted, “I’m losing my eyesight.”

  “What?”

  Henry repeated it. “I’m losing my sight. I’m going blind. It came on suddenly, starting with my peripheral vision. In a few months my vision will be ninety-five percent gone.”

  Philip stared at his friend, the person who’d recognized him right away when he’d shown up for the contest. The only one who knew his whole story and still didn’t give up on him. “When did you notice this? Is there anything you can do to stop it?”

  “It crept up on me,” Henry said, his voice matter-of-fact. “When my eyes got blurry, I thought it was from lack of sleep, or that staring at all those white marshmallows had finally gotten to me. But I went to the doctor, and then a specialist, and then three more specialists. They all came to the same conclusion. The pressure building up inside my eyes will soon disrupt my eyesight to the point where I will only be able to see the outlines of shapes.”

  Philip felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. He had very little experience feeling empathy. He was at a loss for words, an occurrence that seemed to be happening to him more and more lately. For someone who prided himself on being in control and having the last word in any situation, it was an awful feeling. He finally stammered out, “I’m—I’m really sorry, Henry.”

  Henry nodded. “I have to get back to work. I want to get a new batch done for tomorrow.”

  “Can I help with anything?”

  Henry hesitated, then gestured with his thumb toward his office. “Well, I do have a lot of paperwork piled up. Could you enter some receipts into the computer for me? They’re on the desk. A little messy in there, I’m afraid.”

  Philip nodded. He’d helped Henry with the nightly paperwork before, so he knew what to do. He took his time walking to the back room, though. He wanted to make sure Henry wasn’t sitting too close to the burner while he stirred the marshmallow mix. “Maybe you should let the machine do that for you,” he suggested from the doorway to the office.

  Henry shook his head without turning around. “The first Harmonicandy deserves a handmade batch of marshmallow. Trust me—I could do this with my eyes closed.”

  What could he say to that? Philip only nodded and went into the office. The desk was more than a little bit messy. Last time he’d been back here, it had been very well organized. But now papers and folders were strewn all over the desk. He saw all the pairs of thick glasses, and his stomach knotted up again. He’d seen Henry wearing them over the last few months, and while it had registered that they’d gotten progressively thicker, he never stopped to think why.

  He forced himself to get down to the task at hand. He pulled out everything that looked like a receipt for a work-related purchase and sorted them. He then entered them into the spreadsheet on the computer and corrected some that had been entered in the wrong column. Henry was weeks behind, but the work went quickly. Philip looked around for some kind of tray system to put the leftover papers in to make it easier for Henry to find. He had to push away the thought that it wouldn’t matter soon anyway. Henry wouldn’t be able to do paperwork at all. He wouldn’t be able to make marshmallows, either. The thought of that made tears rush to Philip’s eyes, and he had to blink hard before he could see clearly again.

  He opened the bottom desk drawer and found the bin marked OLD RECEIPTS that Henry had just taken from the storage room. Maybe Henry wanted him to put the receipts in there once they were entered into the computer.

  But when he pried the lid off the box, there weren’t any receipts in there at all, only old photographs and cards, some still in their envelopes. After unearthing more than he’d wanted to of his mom’s old stuff, Philip had no interest in pawing through someone else’s. He closed the lid and put the bin back in the drawer. Reggie would be here soon. He needed to get going.

  When Philip stepped out of the office, Henry was waiting by the door. The lights were off, and the fresh marshmallow mix was cooling in the fridge. “Thank you for your help,” Henry said. “I would prefer that you didn’t tell anyone about our conversation yet. Especially not Logan. He wouldn’t go on the trip if he knew, and I believe it’s really important for him to go. For all of you to go.”

  Philip nodded, then said, “Maybe there’s some kind of experimental surgery or something like that. If money’s the issue, I—”

  But Henry shook his head. “Thank you, but I’ve come to terms with it. This condition doesn’t get better no matter how much money I could throw at it. Now, let’s stop with the sad stuff. Tomorrow is your big day. You should only be excited right now.”

  “I don’t know what to feel anymore,” Philip admitted. “This day has been a total roller coaster. You don’t even know the half of it.”

  Henry patted him on the arm. “Hey, I’ve cried twice today, and neither time had anything to do with my eyes. Well, except as a source for the tears, but you know what I mean. Some days you control life; other days life controls you.”

  Philip wasn’t a big fan of platitudes, but Henry was a wise man. He nodded as Henry headed off down the hall. Philip noticed he was weaving a little, trying to stay in the center of the hallway as he swiveled his head from side to side. Philip hurried after him, feeling like he should be close by in case Henry veered toward a wall or tripped.

  Henry came to a stop outside the library when he noticed he wasn’t alone. “Young man, I’m fine. I can still see straight ahead of me. You don’t need to hover.”

  “Who, me?” Philip said innocently. “Can’t a guy get a book from the library without people accusing him of hovering?”

  “I am fairly certain I’ve never seen you step foot in that library,” Henry said.

  “Me? I practically live there,” Philip said, pretending to be indignant. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have books to read.” He turned on his heel and pushed open the door. Henry chuckled and continued on his way.

  Philip was glad to see Miles by the display table. Teasing him felt normal on a day when little else had. He was about to ask Miles if he was going for a world’s record for Band-Aid wearing, but then a thought popped into his head. Did he owe it to his father to invite him to the Kickoff? Maybe once his dad saw the Harmonicandy and what a big deal it was, he’d get on board. Or maybe his dad planned to come anyway. Philip had never actually hidden the event from him. Whether his father had paid attention to the Harmonicandy’s production schedule was a different matter.

  But then Reggie arrived and told Philip his dad had left early for his trip, so the question of whether he’d show up at the Kickoff was moot. Between worrying about Henry and being angry at his father for making things so hard, he didn’t have room in his brain to be annoyed when Reggie offered Miles a ride home, even though he still sort of was.

  At first, having Miles in the car felt wrong. It was like two parts of his life colliding, and it made his stomach churn and his throat go dry. Maybe Miles would be quiet and Philip could be alone with his thoughts. But Miles being Miles, that wasn’t likely to happen.

  Sure enough, two seconds later, the questions began. Philip kept silent, hoping sooner or later Miles was bound to get the hint. But he didn’t, and somehow Philip heard himself referring to Logan and Miles as his friends, and his throat
tightened up again.

  When the limo pulled up outside the O’Leary house, Philip couldn’t look away. It was smaller than his house, of course—most in town were—but it looked so homey, with flowers around the edges of a small lawn, and bikes in the driveway, and a little garden gnome wearing a pointy hat.

  Miles was talking to him again, apologizing for the ride or for talking or whatever, so Philip mumbled something back halfheartedly. He was distracted by a dark-haired man headed away from the house. The man was leading a dog with a stuffed animal in its mouth. He must have been a friend or a relative who’d come to visit, and that sent Philip’s mind thinking about how little he knew about his own extended family. If there was a grandmother out there somewhere, who else might be lurking in his family tree? Then Mr. O’Leary came out of the house, and Miles hopped out of the limo, and Philip pulled himself away from the window.

  “You okay?” Reggie called back to him as they headed home.

  Philip didn’t answer, so Reggie kept talking. “Are you worried about the trip? I know you’re in good hands or I wouldn’t have told Andrew to say yes.”

  Philip looked up in surprise. “You told him?”

  Reggie nodded. “He ran it by me first, and I agreed.”

  Philip felt relief flow through him. Having Reggie’s approval to go was almost as good as his dad’s. “Thanks, Reggie.”

  “Don’t thank me too quickly. You can take those two mailbags with you. You’ll have plenty of time to answer mail on the road.”

  “I thought you were going to do that.”

  “I only said I’d read it,” he replied. “Plus I’ll be too busy covering for you.”

  Philip chuckled. “Fair enough.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Tuesday

  Andrew stepped into Philip’s room at exactly 9:50 a.m. “We leave in ten minutes. What’s with the tie?”

  Philip finished adjusting the knot in the mirror and turned around. “A lot of big players in the candy biz will be at the factory today.”

  Andrew nodded appreciatively. “Gotta dress to impress, as I always say.”

  “You bet,” Philip said. “What’s with the tennis whites again? I thought you were looking for a job.”

  “I am,” Andrew replied. “A few of the big power guys play doubles every Tuesday morning. Yesterday I overheard one of them say he was short a partner, so I volunteered. I figure I help him win with my awesome backhand, he gets me an interview with his company. It’s a win-win!”

  Philip nodded in approval. “Figured you had some strategy. I have to finish packing, so if you don’t mind…”

  “Eight minutes left,” Andrew said. “Then Reggie and I leave without you.”

  “Why can’t you drive yourself there?” Philip asked, placing a folded pile of clothes neatly into his open suitcase.

  “When I can show up in a limo?”

  He was right, of course. “I’ll be ready.”

  Andrew ducked back out, and Philip began stuffing things into his suitcase with greater speed. Reggie had taken pity on him and only gave him a dozen letters to answer. He opened his briefcase to stash the letters inside, and a cascade of lollypop sticks fell out. “Argh!” He didn’t have time to pick them up.

  When he was done packing, he double-checked the list from Mrs. Sweet until he was satisfied that he’d gotten everything. He’d added a few things that weren’t on her list, like a button-down shirt and a pair of dress shoes. He couldn’t very well wear shorts and a T-shirt to meet influential candy shop owners, and certainly not to the Talented Kid competition. At some point he’d have to tell the others they needed to make an extra stop, but that could wait.

  He put the suitcase outside his door for Reggie to take, then hurried downstairs to the room behind his father’s office. He grabbed his notebook and sheet music and checked that his rosin, extra strings, and cloth were in their compartments in the case. Satisfied, he clicked the case shut. He closed his eyes and stood in the middle of the room. After a full minute passed, he reopened the case, tossed his mother’s passport inside, and clicked it shut again. Now he was ready to go.

  Instead of driving straight up to the factory’s front door as usual, Reggie followed the stream of cars and parked in the rear of the parking lot. “All this is for the Kickoff?” Reggie asked. “Looks like a big deal. Perhaps you should have told your father about it.”

  “I was going to. But he took off early anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

  “You didn’t even give him a chance.”

  Before Philip could respond, Reggie got out and headed toward the trunk. Once it was clear that he wouldn’t be opening the door for him, Philip grabbed his briefcase and got out. Reggie was already halfway up the driveway, wheeling the suitcase behind him.

  “C’mon, Reggie. We both know he wouldn’t have come anyway.”

  Reggie just kept wheeling. When he got to the door, he turned and asked, “Do you want me to come instead?”

  “I’m fine, Reggie,” Philip insisted. “Really. I’m used to it.”

  Reggie put Philip’s suitcase down on the porch, and his expression softened. “All right. Have a good time today and safe travels. Keep in touch with me and your brother.” He reached out his hand and Philip shook it, holding it longer than a normal handshake.

  Philip felt an unfamiliar pang as he watched Reggie walk away and get smaller and smaller. The feeling followed him inside, where he left his suitcase and briefcase in a pile with all the others. It didn’t worry him for a second that leaving them unattended could be risky. It just wasn’t like that at Life Is Sweet.

  When he stepped into the Harmonicandy Room and saw the way Miles’s parents looked at their son, he realized what that feeling was. Reggie had looked at Philip the same way, with the same affection and pride. Maybe Philip didn’t have the most traditional family, but Reggie really cared about him, and, in his own way, so did Andrew. He’d proven it now with the trip, and he’d proven it when he first left for college and gave Philip his private notebook with all his tips for success.

  For a second he considered calling Reggie and asking him to stay after all, but then it was time to press the button and he had to focus on that. The Harmonicandy was about to be a Real Thing! Henry squeezed his shoulder and beamed at him through his thick glasses. There were plenty of friends around him, and that was more than enough.

  Still, when Reggie showed up again, Philip’s surprise quickly turned to gratitude. He was glad he’d left the violin in the car and even more relieved when he saw that his mother’s passport hadn’t fallen out. When everyone else had turned away, Reggie whispered to Philip, “Mr. Sweet just said something very strange. He said, ‘You all must be very proud of Philip’s decision about what to do with his portion of the profits.’ What did he mean by that?”

  Philip froze. He didn’t want to talk about it. Reggie tried again, a little louder, but he must have seen Philip cringe, because he let it go with a gentle pat on Philip’s shoulder. Philip relaxed. “Thanks,” he whispered.

  By the time Philip handed out candy bar after candy bar under the bright blue sky, he didn’t remember ever feeling so happy. If Daisy had been there, it would have been a perfect moment. He looked over at Logan, who had swept away the hair he usually had hanging over the worst of his scars, and at Miles, who had changed so much from the kid with the slightly haunted look in his eyes when the contest first started. Miles saw Philip looking at him, showed a flicker of surprise, and grinned back. He held up a Harmonicandy and gave a thumbs-up.

  “Are you going up there?” Reggie asked when Mr. Sweet began to address the crowd. Philip was about to say no when Mr. Sweet waved him up. He threw Reggie a startled look, but Reggie patted his shoulder encouragingly and whispered, “You got this. No one can make things up on the spot like you.” They grinned at each other, and Philip squared his shoulders and walked to the front. As captain of the debate team at school, he’d given plenty of speeches before, and of course he’d accepted
more than his fair share of awards. But this would be the first speech that really meant something to him.

  He spoke too fast, trying to get out what he wanted to say. He knew everyone probably wanted to hear the Harmonicandy and not him, so he wrapped it up by saying, “Let’s see what this thing can do!” For a minute it felt like he was back at the candy contest, praying that when the judge blew into the bar, notes would come out. He crossed his fingers and blew.

  He couldn’t tell which notes were his and which belonged to the hundreds of people blowing along with him, but the resulting music was one of the best things he’d ever heard. Hearing Logan say a few minutes later that there was something wrong with the Harmonicandy ranked as one of the worst things he’d ever heard. His stomach twisted into a tight knot. At least Reggie had just left and didn’t have to see how quickly things had turned.

  As they raced around to find Henry, Philip thought back to those two days when they were experimenting with the ingredients. He could remember making a few trips to the Marshmallow Room, and he was pretty sure Henry had come into the lab once or twice, but it was all a blur now. If Henry hadn’t tasted it, then they were going to all this trouble for nothing.

  Philip glared at Miles and Logan when they left him down at the pond as he posed for pictures, but they didn’t even notice, which was typical of them. He knew his mean streak was sneaking in as his mood darkened, but he was too upset to do anything about it. He had to fake every smile as the moms snapped pictures. It seemed like hours before Logan and Miles returned and rescued him, even though it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes.

  When they finally found Henry by the marsh, Philip shouted at him for trying to ditch them. But as angry as he was, he was more scared that Henry could have fallen into the water and drowned!

  He had no idea why Miles would say Henry was lying about not knowing anything about the chocolate mix-up (did Miles really think he couldn’t understand his backward talk?), but at least they were still going on the trip.