The Candymakers Read online

  Her grandmother laughed. “Where did you hear that expression?”

  “I’m like a sponge,” Daisy said proudly. “I absorb everything around me.”

  “That’s what makes you such a good spy, my darling granddaughter.”

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll hand off the next case that requires a sixty-year-old silver-haired lady, I promise. You’re as relentless as your parents.”

  “Thank you!” Daisy glowed. When your parents were two of the most sought-after spies in the world, any comparison to them was a good one. She couldn’t be prouder of their success, even if it meant that except for the rare times the three of them were on a case as a family, she saw her parents only a few times a month. Sometimes for only a few hours at a time. She would never ask them to change what they did on her account, though, and only partly because she knew they wouldn’t. But, hey, they never missed her birthday, and that said a lot.

  Her grandmother glanced to the left at something Daisy couldn’t see. “I only have a minute or two,” she explained, “but I want to wish you luck on your mission today.”

  “No worries, Grammy. Should be an easy job. Get in, get the secret ingredient, get out.”

  “That’s why I wanted to wish you luck. It’s always—” her grandmother paused to step aside for a group of camera-wielding tourists. Lowering her voice, she said, “It’s always the easy ones that turn out to be the hardest. Have you read the file carefully?”

  “Er, sure,” Daisy fibbed, glancing guiltily at the file waiting, unopened, on her desk. She had meant to go through it before bed but was too tired after spending the day riding Magpie. Daisy didn’t ride as gracefully as some of the other girls, or as sure-footedly, but she loved being on that horse’s back more than anything else in the world. Except for successfully completing her missions, of course. “Hey, if you’re away on another mission, who’s going to be my handler?”

  Her grandmother adjusted her beret and winked. “You must know that, since you read the file so carefully.”

  She should have known she couldn’t put anything over on that woman. “Oh, right!” Daisy said brightly. “I remember now!”

  They both laughed.

  “Love you, Grammy, be careful.”

  “You, too, dear. Don’t give Mrs. Peterson a hard time. The last time I left her in charge, you convinced her that Magpie should eat supper in the dining room with all the girls.”

  Daisy recalled the look of horror on the caretaker’s face when Magpie put her big head into the spaghetti bowl.

  “And remember our motto,” her grandmother continued. “When in Rome, act like the Romans. When you’re a kid in a candy factory, act like a kid in a candy factory.”

  Daisy smiled. “Does that mean I get to eat all the candy I want?”

  “Of course! And give AJ my love.” The screen went blank.

  AJ? AJ? Daisy jumped out of bed, tossing the book onto the pillows behind her. No, it couldn’t be. She ran over to the desk and picked up the orange folder with the day’s assignment in it. She skimmed through the paperwork outlining the mission until she came to the section marked HANDLER. And there it was, in bright red ink: AJ.

  Every spy worth her salt had an arch-nemesis. AJ was hers. Five years older, ten times better-looking (or at least he thought so), and a constant thorn in her side. All the other girls lost a hundred IQ points when he walked by, but they hadn’t been at the mansion as long as she had. They didn’t remember when he was six years old, the youngest spy in the biz, and the only boy in the mansion. He bragged about both nonstop.

  Well, to be honest, she didn’t quite remember that time either, since she was only a baby then, but she did remember when he was ten and she was five. They had to pretend to be brother and sister to infiltrate a traveling circus, and he told the ringmaster she was mute so she couldn’t say a single word for two weeks. He’d probably done it just so she couldn’t remind him that she was now the youngest working spy, beating his claim to fame by a full year.

  She went into her bathroom to wash up. No use whining over it. She was a professional. She could work with anyone. Plus this assignment was short—only three days—and she figured she’d need only one day to get the secret ingredient. Once she had it, she’d make up some excuse to get out of the candy competition and leave. She could put up with AJ for one day, she decided, and pressed the intercom on the wall.

  “Ready for prep,” she announced, wondering who would show up. Whoever wasn’t on active duty got assigned to help prep the others. Last week she had prepped ten-year-old Janel, whose mission was to infiltrate the Buttons and Bows Junior Miss Pageant. Daisy had dressed her in lots of poofy skirts and curled her hair until she looked like a poodle. A very puffy poodle. It took almost a whole can of hair spray to keep her hair that way. Very messy business, the whole prepping thing. Daisy much preferred being on a case than prepping someone else.

  She picked up the folder and leafed through the thin stack of pages again. The research department had found grainy surveillance pictures of both the inside and the outside of the Life Is Sweet candy factory.

  A small photo clipped to the top page had the words “Logan, the Candymaker’s son” scribbled across the bottom. The picture showed a boy of about four or five with olive skin and blond hair. A butterfly sat on the tip of his nose, making his eyes look slightly crossed. His expression was one of pure astonishment and glee. Daisy had to admire the skill of the photographer in capturing both the boy and the butterfly without being seen by either.

  A note from the background checker explained that the factory interior shots were from a very old data-gathering trip, as was the photo of the boy. There had been no time to update the records. The upcoming contest provided the best opportunity for someone to be in the factory unescorted, and the research team had worked day and night to get Daisy enrolled as a contestant.

  She had just begun to read the notes about the factory’s founder when Clarissa and her twin, Marissa, barged in, way too bright-eyed for so early in the morning. Once again, Daisy had to remind herself that she was a professional and could work with anyone.

  Being an identical twin was a great asset when it came to spying. Clarissa and Marissa could essentially be in two places at once, a very handy trick when you’re trying not to be seen in the wrong place. Relentlessly perky and armed with a fashion sense much keener than the typical fifteen-year-old’s, they were never suspected of having a devious thought in their heads. That’s what made them such good spies.

  “I thought you guys were on a case,” Daisy said, holding out the folder. Clarissa grabbed it and flipped it open, scattering the pictures on the rug. Marissa bent down to pick them up.

  “Sorry!” Clarissa squealed.

  “We finished the town-hall job yesterday,” Marissa said, tossing the photos on the bed. “Got the plans for the new water tunnels with no problem. So we’re all yours!”

  “Swell,” Daisy muttered.

  The twins huddled together and skimmed the file. Then, with a nod, Clarissa swung open the door to the walk-in closet and stepped in. Marissa clapped her hands with excitement. “This is going to be a fun one!”

  The two of them pulled out dress after dress until Clarissa said, “Got it!” and held up a short yellow dress so bright Daisy had to shield her eyes.

  “You’re kidding me,” she said, pretty sure they weren’t. “Why that one? Can’t I wear something more, I don’t know, sophisticated?”

  “We think your personality for this mission should be fun and cheery. What says fun and cheery better than this?” She held the dress up high.

  “And these?” Marissa asked with a giggle, holding up two socks—one pink and one blue with polka dots.

  Daisy sighed. She knew they were right. The twins were the best preppers in the mansion. “All right, let’s do this.”

  They marched her into the bathroom, where they poured a whole bottle of Sunshine Blond on her natural