The Candymakers and the Great Chocolate Chase Read online

  As the workers from other departments streamed out the door, they stopped to give Miles their congratulations and many slaps on the back. (He learned to plant his feet firmly, shoulder-distance apart, in order to stay upright.)

  Sabrina scribbled the final choices on a slip of paper and handed it to Miles. “You get the honor of sharing these with Mr. Sweet. He also has a special announcement, but he’s waiting for your arrival before sharing it.”

  So he had heard his name before. Miles gave her a grateful hug and headed out to the Harmonicandy Room. He hadn’t planned on a pit stop, but the Marshmallow Room was only a few doors down, and Miles couldn’t wait to share his excitement with someone.

  “Henry?” he called as he pushed open the door. But the room was empty. Well, empty of people, but certainly not empty of marshmallows. There were stacks of those cooling on the counters. He popped a still-warm one into his mouth on the way to check the small office in the back. Maybe Henry was having a late lunch at his desk. Miles ducked his head in. No Henry, just one very overcrowded desk with a bulky old computer off to the side. Even though four pairs of eyeglasses with really thick lenses were getting second lives as paperweights, stacks of papers and folders threatened to slide to the floor at the slightest breeze. Miles thought it must be hard to have to do boring things like paperwork when all you really wanted to do was make marshmallows.

  He scribbled a note to Henry letting him know he’d stopped by, and then Miles set forth again. The Harmonicandy Room was all the way at the other end of the building, so he had to face many temptations along the way. The candy scientists in the lab had their door propped open, which wouldn’t help him get to his destination any faster. He would almost definitely get sucked in by the smell of whatever they were testing; it happened every time. Maybe today they’d be developing cabbage candy or asparagus icing or candied beets, and he could easily hurry past. Ah, no such luck. As soon as he passed the Cotton Candy Room, where the smell of grapefruit-flavored spun sugar (smells and tastes better than it sounds!) filled his nose, the unmistakable smell of peanut butter from the lab hit him full force. One whiff and he was powerless against its pull.

  He stood by the open door, breathing deeply with his eyes closed. A few of the candies at Life Is Sweet included nuts (hazelnuts in the Oozing Crunchorama, peanuts in the Snorting Wingbats, peanut-flavored taffy, and you always had the option of sprinkling sugared pecans on the chocolate pizza), but none of the recipes used straight-up peanut butter. Miles’s curiosity kicked in, and he would have gone into the lab if his attention hadn’t been pulled away by the sound of someone whistling. Miles turned around to see one of the assistant candymakers heading toward him, a huge bag of Leapin’ Lolly sticks slung over his broad shoulder. One of the bags had a hole in the bottom, leaving a trail of sticks that went as far back down the hall as Miles could see. The scene reminded him of Hansel and Gretel dropping breadcrumbs through the forest so they could find their way home.

  The man nodded at Miles as he passed, whistling away, clearly unaware of the leak. “Hey, your sticks are leaking,” Miles called out, pointing to the trail. The assistant candymaker stopped.

  “So they are! Thanks.” He lifted the bag off his shoulder to inspect the hole. Miles bent down to grab the nearest sticks and felt something flutter onto his shoulder. He turned his head to see what it was. The guy laughed and said, “I’ve heard the expression money doesn’t grow on trees, but I’ve never heard it said about growing on boys!”

  “What do you mean?” Miles asked, then craned his neck a little farther. Resting on his shoulder was a fifty-dollar bill! He snatched it up and held it out. “Is this yours?”

  The guy shook his head. “Nope. Finders keepers. And that bill clearly found you!” He picked up the bag again, careful to pinch the hole closed with his fingers, and whistled on his way.

  Miles stood still, staring at the bill in his hand. He’d never held fifty dollars before! Where had it come from? His mind spun with all the possibilities of what to do with it.

  No doubt about it, this was shaping up to be one of the best days ever!

  CHAPTER SIX

  Such was his overwhelming happiness that Miles had to keep himself from skipping out of the Harmonicandy Room to the library and then skipping out to the great lawn. Even though the box he carried weighed him down a little, he felt as if he were floating. In the last hour he’d had one of his slogans selected to go on every Harmonicandy wrapper, found fifty dollars, seen the Harmonicandy Room, and been told he was going on a road trip with his friends to visit famous candy stores (a road trip! A dream come true!), and now he was about to sit at a picnic table and open a box of old journals and maps that hadn’t been seen in decades. It made all the earlier drama with his dad seem very far away.

  As usual, the lawn was bustling with activity. Even though the factory had closed to visitors in order to prepare for the Kickoff the next day, many of the guests had lingered to enjoy the outdoors. Balls flew between parents and kids, music played, and factory workers carried bales of hay to the barn and boxes of strawberries from the field. Thankfully, the smell from the peppermint leaves helped cover the odor of the manure spread around the flower beds. And Miles had never seen the pond so full. The only boat not on the water was the Candymaker’s private canoe, painted bright yellow in honor of his award-winning Neon Yellow Lightning Chew.

  He walked past the spot where Max had set up their picnic lunch the very first day of the contest. Miles had to shake his head at the memory of telling the others he was allergic to rowboats and the color pink. What they must have thought of him! He was so glad he could tell them anything now. Or almost anything, anyway.

  After making his way around a spirited game of lawn chess played with giant pieces that took both hands to lift, Miles rested the box on the only picnic table that didn’t have families crowded around it.

  The breeze was picking up, so he gathered some stones and sticks to use as paperweights before getting down to the task of sorting the contents of the box into piles. He loved the feel of the old notebook paper beneath his hands. He expected it to be rough and crackly, but instead the pages were soft, almost buttery. Even the musty smell of the newspapers reminded him more of the storeroom of the library than an attic. He breathed the smell in deep, wishing he could absorb all the information just by doing that. Sure would save time.

  A small crowd began to gather around him. Perhaps they thought he was setting up more freebies. Most drifted away when they discovered he was pulling out notebooks and papers, not candy, but two boys—around ages eight and ten—stayed. Miles had thought doing this outside would be more private than spreading the material out on the factory library floor, but he was beginning to doubt his judgment. The younger boy actually reached into the box and began pulling things out! The other started tossing around the rocks and sticks Miles had piled up.

  “Um, can you guys not do that?” Miles asked, pulling the box away. “This stuff is really valuable.”

  “C’mon, Cole,” the older boy said, tossing a few of the sticks from the table into the box. “I told you there’s no candy here.”

  Cole dropped the spiral brown notebook he’d been holding, then peered into the box one last time before following the other boy. Miles was tempted to catch up to them and give them a lesson on manners, but as an only child, he had no experience scolding other children. He straightened the piles and then pulled the sticks out from the box and tossed them to the ground. It wasn’t that windy anyway. He was looking forward to the factory’s return to normal after tomorrow, when people would once again respect other people’s property.

  Finally the visitors slowly began heading around the side of the factory toward the parking lot. Miles rubbed his hands together in anticipation and dove into the pile. He started with the newspaper clippings because they were the most fragile and looked like they’d be the easiest to read. Miles could see from his quick glance at one of the notebooks that Samuel didn’t have