“I am. Where are you from?” Sybil asked.
“Sheffield. You?”
“No way! Really?” Sybil said with her eyes wide. “I was raised in Doncaster, not very far from Sheffield.”
“What a small world,” said Annella. “Are you living in the States now?”
“Yeah, I am. I moved here a year ago when I was offered a job with the agency. I hope it’s okay that I came without calling first. Tallie said I might have more success if I just popped in.”
Annella chuckled. “Well Tallie was right and it’s absolutely fine. Come in. Archie will be very happy to meet you.”
“Oh, does he go by Archie? Tallie used the name Archibald.”
“He does prefer Archibald. I’m sure he’ll be tickled if you call him that,” Annella said.
Annella walked Sybil to the living room and said, “Albert, this is Sybil. She’s a literary agent. Come to see Archie.”
Albert stood up from his chair, removed his reading glasses and dropped them in his shirt pocket. He walked over to Sybil and put his hand out. “It’s nice to meet you, Sybil.”
Sybil shook Albert’s hand. “Thank you for allowing me to intrude on your evening. I won’t be long, I promise.”
“You’re English, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am,” she said with a smile.
Annella showed Sybil a chair. “Please have a seat and I’ll just go fetch Archie.”
When Annella got upstairs, she knocked on Archie’s door.
“Come in.”
Annella opened his door. She hunched over and moved toward him. “She’s come!” she whispered excitedly.
“Who’s come?” he asked.
“The literary agent Tallie told you about in her letter! Sybil Schofield.”
“She’s here? Now?” he asked.
“Yes. She’s waiting in the living room.”
Archie seemed a little nervous, so his mother put his mind at ease. “She’s an adorable little thing . . . and British, too.”
“British?” he asked.
“Yes, from Doncaster. That’s very close to where I grew up.”
“Is she your age?” Archie asked.
“No, she’s very young, not much older than you. Maybe twenty-three, twenty-four.”
Archie looked surprised.
“Now hurry up and come down. I’ll put on some tea.”
“Do you think I should bring my work down for her to see?”
“Not yet. You don’t want to seem too eager. Come and meet her first. You can always come back for it when she asks for it.”
“Yes, right,” he said. “I’ll be right there.”
Until that very moment, it seemed an impossible dream to Archie. It had never dawned on him it might actually happen. So when his mother left, he couldn’t help but smile at the possibility of becoming a published author. But not knowing a single thing about publishing made him nervous as well.
He looked in the mirror to make sure his hair wasn’t too out of order, grabbed his umbrella by the door, and exited. When he was down the stairs, he moved to the living room and saw her. Sybil quickly stood and put her hand out to Archie.
“Hello, Archibald. I’m Sybil Schofield, with the Camden Street Literary Agency.”
Archie shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Schofield.”
“Please, just call me Sybil. I’ve heard some pretty wonderful things about you and your book. Archie Underneath, right?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Archie said, his voice a little shaky.
“I can see by the umbrella over your head you have truly lived this story of yours.”
Archie was trying hard to sound at ease, so he said, “Yes, I suppose I’ve . . . lived to tell about it.”
Sybil laughed lightheartedly. “It’s a genius idea to write it as a children’s story.”
“I can’t take credit for it,” he said. “It was Tallie’s idea.”
“And quite a good one!” she said. “I’m certainly captivated by the idea of it. She mentioned you would be illustrating it as well?”
“I am, although I’m not very confident with that part of it.”
“Well, we can have a look. There are plenty of willing illustrators if need be.”
“That’s good to know,” Archie said.
“Do you have your work handy? I’m dying to take a peek.”
“Yes, I’ll just go and get it. Mother, you may serve tea now.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt a great deal of embarrassment. Archie had never ordered his mother to do anything. He turned and looked at her with an expression that revealed his shame. Of course, his mother knew he was just nervous and hadn’t intentionally been rude, so she said, “Archie, tea is a wonderful idea! Sybil, why don’t you come over to the table where Archie can spread his work out for you and you can have your tea.”
From the table, Sybil said to Annella, “Tea sounds lovely. I’m feeling knackered after traveling.”
From the kitchen, Annella asked, “Where did you travel from, Sybil?”
“Only from San Francisco, but I’m still not quite acclimated to driving these curvy roads, especially from the wrong side of the car.”
“Five hours on those roads can be torture for anyone,” Annella admitted.
“I’m afraid it took me seven. And I’m feeling pretty down for it. How long did it take you to adjust to driving over here?”
“I was quite young when I came to the States. In fact, I hadn’t even learned to drive yet, so I guess I’m the lucky one.”
“Indeed,” said Sybil.
Archie walked into the room with his papers, and Annella pushed a little white cart over to the table that held a brightly colored tea set. She said to Archie, “Come and put your stuff here,” while she handed Sybil a cup of tea.
“Thank you, Annella,” she said, pulling the cup toward her as if it brought her comfort.
Archie put his notebook and a small stack of illustrations on the table in front of Sybil and stepped back. Sybil scooted her chair away from the table, stood with her tea, and backed away. “You know what, I am such a klutz. I think I’d better put my tea aside or we might all regret it.”
Annella laughed at Sybil. “Here, let me put your tea on the tray while you look.”
Sybil spread out the illustrations—there were six of them—and said, “You shouldn’t be insecure about these drawings. They’re quite good.”
“They are?” Archie asked with relief in his voice.
“Yes, they are. You do plan to give them color though?”
“Yes, those are just my sketches. I was thinking I might use colored pencils. Do you think that would work or would something else be better?”
Sybil squinted her eyes and bit the side of her bottom lip as she considered his question. “Hmmmm. I’m not sure. Do you work with pastels?”
“A little bit,” Archie said.
“Would you be willing to put pastels to a couple of them so I can evaluate?”
“I’d be happy to,” he answered.
Albert came into the room. “Sybil, what do you think you could do for Archie’s book?”
At first Archie was a little embarrassed by his father’s direct manner, but because he trusted his business sense much more than his own, he quickly recovered from his doubt.
Sybil shook her head. “Oh, of course. We should talk a little about that. Well, I would like to take a look at Archibald’s story first, although I’ll admit, I’m already sold on the concept or I wouldn’t be here. But if it is as I expect it will be, I will make him an offer of representation and hopefully give him the opportunity to get published.”
“Is it a very time-consuming process?” Annella asked.
“Usually, but there are a few exceptions,” Sybil sai
d. “If several publishers are interested, it may come together rather quickly, but again, that isn’t common.”
“What is the best-case scenario?” asked Annella.
“What usually takes up to a year might only take a few months if there is a publisher ready to jump on it. There really are so many determining factors. It’s hard to say,” Sybil said with a little reservation.
“That’s what I’m going to be praying for,” Annella said, hopefully.
Albert piped up, “Now, let’s keep our heads about us. It’s always better to assume things won’t go so smoothly so there are no disappointments.”
Archie hoped it might happen quickly, but because of his inexperience as well as his lack of confidence, he worried Sybil might not like his story after all.
Sybil picked up Archie’s notebook and said, “Why don’t we back up a little bit and let me take a look at Archibald’s story. After that I might be able to make some better projections.”
Albert and Annella laughed together over their hastiness. “Of course,” Annella said shaking her head.
Archie felt his heart race at the thought of being critiqued by a professional, so he forced a smile in hopes of covering up his anxiety.
“Here Archie, have some tea,” his mother said offering him a cup. “Would you like some tea, Albert?”
“No, thank you, dear. I’m going for a glass of Cabernet.”
They all sat quietly while Sybil read Archie’s story. There were a few moments when she laughed and another when she put her hand to her chest and said, “Aw.” Finally when she was done reading she said, “You’re a good writer, Archibald.”
Archie wished she had said more, but he still smiled and said, “Thank you.”
Annella put her hand on Archie’s arm and hollered across the room to Albert, who was sitting back in his chair, “Did you hear that, Albert? Sybil thinks Archie is a good writer.”
Albert got up from his chair and walked over to the table with his wine glass in his hand. He took a sip and asked Sybil, “What did you think of the story?”
Sybil smiled. “I’m in love with your son’s story.”
Albert put his wine glass in the air and shouted, “Hallelujah!”
They all laughed together, including Sybil.
Sybil stayed with the Plumbys for an hour. They talked about the agent/author relationship and discussed potential publishers as well as possible offers. At the end of the hour, Archie accepted representation with Sybil Schofield of the Camden Street Literary Agency and agreed to meet her for breakfast, at none other than The Lupine.
18
Archie’s head was filled with thoughts of being a published author, so sleep didn’t come easily that night. Unfortunately when sleep did come, so did the same nightmare he’d had twice before. He was stuck in the sand, watching the monstrous wave, yelling for Tallie to help him. The only variation in the dream was that when she walked away from him with a smile on her face, it made him angry and he began shouting and even cursing at her.
Upon waking, Archie immediately felt shame for his coarse words, especially since he was shouting them at the one he loved. He said out loud, “Lord, where in the world did that come from? Please forgive me.”
Archie knew he was still struggling with understanding why Tallie decided to go to New Zealand, but he had no idea there was so much anger bottled up inside of him. It was going to be a challenge to carry on without feeling a bit put out by it all.
He looked at the clock and realized he was, once again, running late. He was getting quite good at that. He rolled out of bed and hurried to the bathroom to shower and get ready for breakfast with Sybil.
Sybil was waiting for Archie in the restaurant. When he walked in, she waved at him and he walked over to the table.
“Good morning,” Archie said.
“Good morning to you, Archibald. Eight o’clock came a little soon, didn’t it?”
Archie sat down and began setting up his umbrella. “Yes. I’m so sorry.”
Sybil watched with interest as he set up his stand, especially since he did it so well with one hand. “You had trouble sleeping, didn’t you?” she asked.
When Archie was done with his umbrella, he smiled at Sybil. “How did you know?”
“All my new authors have that reaction,” she said. “It’s an exciting time in your life.”
“It does seem a little like a dream,” he said. “I don’t think I believed it would ever happen . . . until it did.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t sleep, either. I became more and more excited about your story through the night. I’m going to work very hard to find you a publisher, and I really hope your mum’s prayers are answered.”
“I hope so, too,” Archie admitted.
Archie thought of Tallie and her faith in his writing. He felt a little pang of longing and wished it were she who was sitting across from him, but then he remembered that it was because of Tallie he had any chance of success at all and so he decided to embrace this moment with his new agent.
“Are you free the next few days?” Sybil asked.
“Yes, why?”
“I thought I’d stick around if you don’t mind. I think a few days together to polish up the story would be good. That way I can begin presenting it to publishers as soon as I return to the office. I’d also like to make a decision about the illustrations before I leave so you can get to work on them. If I have one or two to take with me, that would also help sell the book.”
Archie nodded. “Whatever you think is best. I obviously have no idea how this publishing business works.”
Sybil put her head down and began to write something in a notebook. When she did, her thick hair practically engulfed her face. She used her hands to tuck it behind her ears, but it fell right back down as soon as she lowered her head again. “Blast! This crazy hair of mine!” She reached into her purse and grabbed a clip. Holding it up she said, “This little clip is a lifesaver!”
Archie couldn’t think of a single fitting response, so he just sat quietly.
“Guys are so lucky,” she said still trying to fit all of her hair into the clip.
Archie pointed at the curly mass of hair on his forehead and said, “Not always!”
Sybil laughed. “I like your hair. It suits you.”
“Thank you. Well . . . your hair . . . suits you, too.”
When Sybil chuckled at his response, he felt foolish for saying it.
Aware of his embarrassment, she said, “I don’t think our hair deserves any more of our attention this morning. What do you think?”
Archie shook his head. “I quite agree, but breakfast . . .”
“Yeah, let’s flag down that waitress,” she said.
When they were finished eating and going over some little details of the story, Sybil asked Archie, “How long would it take you to finish one illustration in pastel?”
Archie shrugged. “Probably a full day of work . . . but maybe just a few hours. It’s hard to say for sure. I haven’t worked with pastels in a while.”
“Do you have some time today? I mean, I don’t want to put too much pressure on you, but if I can leave here with an established book idea and a sample illustration, it will be much easier to get our creative point across.”
“I understand,” Archie said. “I have an appointment with the editor at the paper this morning, but it shouldn’t take more than an hour or so.”
“Why don’t you see what you can get done and maybe we can reconvene this evening?”
“That would be fine. What time?” he asked.
“Should we do dinner?” she asked.
Archie was really hoping for a night at home to talk to his parents about everything that had taken place, but he didn’t want to be rude, so he said, “Um, sure. Where would you like to meet?”
“Well, I am dying to try your mother’s restaurant. Should we meet there?”
“Of course. Six-thirty?”
“Excellent!” she said. “Don’t forget to bring along your illustration, even if you don’t get it finished. I’m anxious to make that decision.”
Archie was at his table when Sybil arrived at Flavors of the Earth. He stood so she could see him. When she got to the table, she said, “So how’d it go? Any luck with the illustration?”
“Well, I finished it, but I’ll let you tell me how you think things went.” He opened a portfolio, which revealed a pastel illustration inside a clear plastic sleeve, and pushed it toward Sybil. She put it in front of her and sat analyzing it for a moment before saying with a smile, “Yes. Let’s do pastel.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. It fits the story perfectly! If you could get just one more done before I leave, that would be very helpful.”
Archie wondered if that one more would end up being yet one more by the time Sybil left, but he didn’t let on that he was thinking that. Instead he said, “I think I can accommodate.”
Sybil closed the folder. “Good. So now that I’ve made a decision for you, it’s time for you to make a decision for me.”
Archie appeared confused so Sybil laughed and said, “Don’t worry, I just want you to help me decide what to eat for dinner.”
“Oh, that shouldn’t be too difficult. I can recommend, well, I can recommend everything. Do you like fish? Or do you prefer chicken . . . or steak?”
“I love fish . . . and chicken . . . and steak. Actually, I just really love to eat.”
Archie laughed at Sybil. “You’re not alone in that. Would you believe there isn’t one thing on this menu I don’t like? And believe me I’ve tried all of it.”
“You must have a lot of self-control though, huh?”
“Why do you say that?” asked Archie.
“Because you’re so thin.”
Archie shook his head. “Trust me, it’s not self-control. I have none of that when it comes to Mother’s dishes. It’s only a very fast metabolism.”
“Lucky you. I have no fast metabolism, but I have wonderful self-control when it comes to broccoli, cauliflower, lima beans . . . and, well, most vegetables. I’ll admit they have to be pretty disguised for me to eat them.”
Archie of Outlandish Page 15
