Since Archie was twenty, he was old enough to know that time moved slowly in waiting and rapidly in keeping busy, and so he made plans to work very hard while Tallie was away and hoped to accomplish exactly what she’d entreated him to do . . . or at least give it everything he had. He planned to write some letters to a few agents and see if he might capture the attention of one with his story. He was dead set on refusing help from the agent Tallie had mentioned in her letter, because he didn’t want to accept help from Gemma Perrelli. But his father reminded him of his commitment to keep an open mind and that meant if Sybil contacted him, he must be willing to at least talk to her. It was a good thing he came to that resolve when he did, because just six days after Tallie’s letter arrived, Sybil knocked on the Plumbys’ door.
When Annella opened the door, she saw a tall redhead with dark rimmed glasses standing before her. “Hello,” she said with a little question in her expression.
“Hello. Does Archibald Plumby live here?”
“Yes, he’s my son.”
Putting her hand out the lady said, “My name is Sybil Schofield. I’m an agent with the Camden Street Literary Agency.”
Annella was excited when she realized why she must have come, but she was also surprised by two things: first was her English accent, and second was her age. She was much younger than Annella would’ve expected.
Annella shook her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Ms. Schofield. My name is Annella.”
“Do I detect a British accent?” Sybil asked.
“Yes, and it sounds like you’re British as well.”
“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 said. “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.