OH, NO! He’ll be boiled to death!” shrieked Bess.
“That’s impossible,” said a thin, bespectacled man near her. “Fine chocolate is never heated to the boiling point. The cocoa butter would—”
Nancy didn’t bother listening to the rest. She leapt onto the stage just as Brock’s head appeared above the edge of the tempering pot. He was coughing, sputtering, and trying unsuccessfully to wipe chocolate from his face with a chocolate-drenched hand.
Samantha reached the pot at the same time as Nancy, and both girls held down their hands to Brock. “Are you all right?” Samantha cried.
“I—I think I am,” sputtered Brock.
By this time both Tim and Jake had also rushed forward to help. The four of them tugged on Brock’s hands and arms. As they were yanking him over the edge of the vat, it unexpectedly tipped.
Nancy jumped back, but there was no avoiding the wave of hot melted chocolate that cascaded onto her feet, covering the stage and dripping down to the floor. Brock, Samantha, Tim, and Jake—all of them as chocolate-covered as Nancy—were unable to move. The guests who were closest to the stage yelped and stepped hastily back.
Except for one—Dan Avery. He pushed his way through the crowd so eagerly that for a second Nancy almost thought he wanted to lap up some of the melted chocolate. Once he was near the stage, though, he held up his camera and began taking pictures.
“What is that guy’s problem?” Nancy heard George say to Bess. And next to her, a disgusted-looking Brock was trying to wipe chocolate from his face. “I’ve got to get to a shower,” he muttered.
“Right away,” Samantha agreed. She turned to Tim and Jake. “Could you guys do me a big favor and start cleaning up this mess while I help Brock to his room? I’ll help later.”
“Sure thing,” said Jake.
“I really appreciate it,” said Samantha. Then she turned toward the guests. “Sorry, folks,” she said with a strained smile. “We didn’t mean to go quite so far to get your attention. I guess we’ll have to postpone this contest—but don’t despair. In an hour we’ll be serving the first of our spectacular Chocolate Festival meals—complete with a surprise dessert.”
“Haven’t we had enough surprises for one day?” a woman remarked tartly. “First we get ringside seats at a boxing match. Then we get dipped in chocolate! This isn’t the most festive festival I’ve ever been to.”
Samantha’s mouth was set in a straight line, Nancy noticed. “Well, I’m sure things will go smoothly from now on,” Samantha assured the crowd. “Now I’d better help poor Mr. Sawyer. Don’t worry about getting chocolate on the floor, Brock. We can clean it up later.”
As the guests began to trickle out of the room after Samantha, Nancy said, “I’m going to have to clean up, but first I’d like to get a closer look at that vat of chocolate.”
“Fine,” said George, who had remained untouched by the chocolate. “Maybe Bess and I will check out the grounds. We’ll see you at one-thirty.”
Stepping around Tim and Jake, who were scraping sticky chocolate off the platform, Nancy went over to the vat and scale. She was grateful that they didn’t seem to notice her. They both seemed preoccupied with something Tim was muttering angrily about.
“Why did Samantha say she’d help us clean up the chocolate?” Tim was saying. “Because you know with one thing and another, she won’t be able to help us. She’ll have to check something in her office or make a phone call. Or talk to Brock,” he finished in disgust.
“I know what you mean,” Jake said sympathetically.
Nancy was listening with only half an ear. Her attention was mainly concentrated on the scale that had tipped Brock into the chocolate.
“What’s so interesting about that scale?”
Suddenly Nancy realized that Jake’s question was directed at her. “Oh, nothing,” she replied casually. “I’ve just never seen one of these up close.”
That was true, and up close Nancy could see that there was something wrong with it.
The two pans on either side of the scale were held up by chains that, in turn, were attached to one central chain. There seemed to be some kind of crack in one link of the chain leading to the pan Brock had been sitting on. Bending in to examine it even more carefully, she saw that the link had been filed almost all the way through!
Someone had meant that chain to loosen and stretch, which would dump the contents—Brock—into the vat. But who? And why?
There was no way to answer those questions before lunch, Nancy realized. She might as well get cleaned up.
Saying nothing about her discovery, Nancy murmured a quick “See you guys later,” then walked out of the Round Room.
The inn was so big and rambling, she decided to try a new route back to the room. The hallway she chose was dimly lit and empty—except for Dan Avery, who was talking on a pay phone in a little alcove.
He was speaking so venomously that he didn’t even notice Nancy as she walked past. “Absolutely. I’m in total control. Believe me, I’ll take care of him for you. I’ll get that actor if it’s the last thing I do.”
• • •
“Chocolate rice? I can’t believe it!” Nancy exclaimed at lunch.
The Chocolate Festival’s first lunch had just begun—and chocolate had made its way into every course. The rice served with the shrimp main course had unsweetened cocoa in it, though not enough to make it taste strange, Nancy was relieved to note. The butter served with the chocolate whole-wheat rolls was chocolate flavored. There was even chocolate salad dressing on the fruit salad.
“I can’t imagine what dessert will be,” Nancy said, scooping some rice onto her fork.
Brock Sawyer smiled down at her, his blue eyes sparkling. “I don’t know, but you’d better save some room for it. It’s bound to be delicious.”
Before the meal Samantha had spotted Nancy, Bess, and George hesitating at one end of the dining room, trying to decide where to sit. She had asked them to join her family, Tim, and—to Bess’s delight—Brock.
Now Nancy was feeling a little uncomfortable, though. Brock had spent most of the meal talking to her. She was seated between him and Samantha. Nancy kept trying to steer the conversation toward Bess, who was seated on Brock’s other side, but it wasn’t working.
Bess kept trying to steer the conversation in her direction, too. “Want some of this chocolate butter, Brock?” she asked eagerly. “It’s great!”
“No, thanks, Bess. I’m watching my weight. With all the chocolate I have to taste here, I need to be careful the rest of the time. I had a long session with my nutritionist before I came, and she told me what I could and couldn’t eat. I’m going to stick to her rules if it kills me.”
He turned back to Nancy and went on with what he had been saying before. “I’m just glad that Samantha had the good sense to keep the tabloid reporters away from this festival. If there’s anything I can’t stand, it’s those junky supermarket newspapers. They make up the worst lies I’ve ever read.”
“Do they write about you a lot?” asked Nancy.
Brock grimaced. “Oh, yeah. The more successful ‘City Heat’ has gotten, the more they’ve picked on me. Especially the Midnight Examiner. The last time I saw an issue, they were claiming that I was married to my thirteen-year-old cousin. I don’t even have any cousins. My fiasco in that chocolate vat would have been right up the Examiner’s alley.”
Suddenly Mrs. Tagley leaned across the table. “And just what caused that disaster, Samantha?” she asked sharply.
“I don’t know yet, Mom,” Samantha replied in a tight voice. “I’ll get on it, don’t worry. There are a lot of other things at the inn that need my attention besides that.”
Mrs. Tagley briefly patted her gray hair. “Well, if you’re going to be running this place, as you insist on doing, you have to be concerned with everything,” she said evenly. “A good innkeeper keeps track of the details and the big picture, you know.”
A sugary-sweet smile spread across Samantha’s face. “All right, Mom,” she cooed. “I’ll just follow your good example, okay?”
Uh-oh, thought Nancy. That sounded like a direct jab at Mrs. Tagley’s own innkeeping skills. From what Jake had said earlier, Oakwood had been having trouble attracting customers. Was Samantha implying that that had been her mother’s fault?
Now Mrs. Tagley seemed as though she was about to explode, but her husband intervened.
“Let’s leave this for another time, all right?” Mr. Tagley said quietly. He looked stiff and uncomfortable in his suit and tie. “The festival’s driving us all crazy enough as it is. No need to bother our company with it, too.”
“Oh, all right,” snapped Mrs. Tagley.
This family certainly didn’t seem to be self-conscious about arguing in front of total strangers! Nancy thought.
She decided it was time to try to get people back into a good mood. “This is a fantastic meal,” she told Mrs. Tagley. “I can’t believe your chef could prepare chocolate in so many interesting ways.”
“Wait till you taste dessert,” Jake volunteered. He sounded relieved at the change of subject. “My stepmother’s chocolate desserts are out of this world. They’re the thing that’s kept this inn going for the past couple of years.”
Once again he broke off, embarrassed, and nervously brushed his sandy hair back. Nancy guessed he hadn’t meant to blurt out yet another reminder that the inn was in trouble.
“What is for dessert?” she asked swiftly.
“Brock Sawyer—the chocolate version, that is,” Mrs. Tagley said mysteriously.
“What do you mean?” asked Bess.
“You’ll have to see for yourself,” Samantha put in. Glancing around at the other tables, she asked, “Do you think people are ready for dessert yet?”
“Definitely!” Bess and George said in unison.
“Well, then, I’ll go get it!”
Samantha jumped up and walked across the dining room toward a cart by the kitchen door, where Nancy could see there was something covered with a white cloth on the cart. As Samantha wheeled the cart to the front of the room, conversation at the other tables began to die down.
“Did everyone have a nice lunch?” Samantha asked, smiling as the guests burst into applause.
“You couldn’t possibly find room for more chocolate, could you?”
“Yes! Yes!” people called out.
“Then I guess we’re just going to have to give you what you want. As some of you may know, my mother is a real artist with chocolate.” Once again the room filled with applause. “And for dessert today, she’s made what I think is her finest creation ever.
“I’m going to ask our special guest to unveil this spectacular dessert for us,” Samantha went on. She glanced toward Nancy’s table. “Ready, Brock?”
Smiling broadly, Brock stood and walked over to her. “Here goes!” he said. With a flourish he picked up a corner of the white cloth and whisked it off the dessert.
Then his smile turned into a shudder of disgust. “What is this?” he shouted.
Everyone craned their necks to see what he was talking about—and a confused murmur filled the room.
On the table was a spectacular white-chocolate cake—a replica of Brock’s face. It was stunning, except for one thing.
The whole surface of the cake was pulsating with a living blanket of ants!