Welcome back to SGL! I decided to share a scene from my debut novel, Amelia, today. Angie Barrington is a wealthy widower in Portland, OR. It’s 1898, and Angie is forty years old and one of the elite set of society. She’s a kind hearted woman who has taken in her niece, Amelia, the main character of the story.
Is that enough background? I hope so, let’s dive into it, shall we?
Angie rarely took advantage of her social status, but this was one of those times when she knew it would come in handy. Now, the trick would be convincing Mr. Fletcher, the owner and editor-in-chief of the Oregonian, to give Amelia a chance. It wouldn’t be easy, but Angie had a feeling she’d be successful. Seeing as Mr. Fletcher had been eager to meet with her, she didn’t think he would want to insult her with a refusal. As the carriage took her across town, a question ate at her. What if her darling niece rejected this opportunity? Had Amelia been caught by the glimmer of society already?
Resolutely, Angie put the doubt out of her mind. Amelia was a sensible girl. She had nothing to worry about.
She entered the offices of the Oregonian and was surprised by the hustle and bustle. People yelled across the room and hurried between desks. She paused and continued toward the glass-enclosed office at the end of the room, where a heavyset man sat behind a desk.
“Forgive my intrusion,” she said, opening the office door, “but the young man at the front
told me to come straight in.”
“Of course, Mrs. Barrington. Please, have a seat. I’m Mr. Fletcher.” He waved a hand toward a chair in front of his desk.
“Thank you for taking time to meet with me. I’m sure you’re very busy.”
“Oh, not at all, ma’am. It’s no trouble for a lady such as yourself. What can I do for you?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard this before, Mr. Fletcher, but my niece has talent.”
“Yes, yes. I’m sure she does.”
“And she aspires to be a reporter one day,” Angie said then corrected herself, “I’m sorry, I mean a journalist.”
“Naturally, naturally.”
“In light of that, I brought a piece she wrote.” Angie pulled out Amelia’s written description of the balloon ascension.
Mr. Fletcher fairly snatched it out of her fingers and scanned the paper. “This is quite good…quite good. There are several structural errors and… well…it is quite good, I assure you.”
“I’m glad you think so. I was hoping that you could perhaps find a place for her here. She’s still young and needs to learn the ins and outs.”
Mr. Fletcher rubbed his hands together, his eyes darting around the bustling newsroom. “We could put her with Larry, or Frank. No, no that won’t work. Maybe with Stanley.” After a few more mumbling attempts, he shifted his focus back to Angie. “We can do that, Mrs. Barrington. As you say, she’s not ready for a writing job, but there are a few places we could put her. Naturally, I’ll need to meet her. Not to imply that she isn’t a credit to you, ma’am. I’m sure she is, sure she is.”
“Thank you. Amelia will be so excited when I tell her.” Angie stood, preparing to leave.
“Of course, of course. Did you know that my wife has always longed to be part of the circles that frequent the Portland Hotel? But new money is looked down on, you know.” He shuffled some papers and moved a pen to a small cup. “It’s a constant conversation in our home, you understand,
her wanting to be a part of it. Her heart is set on it, you see.”
“I’ll send her an invitation to accompany me the next time I go, if you think she’d accept?” Angie smoothly accepted his request for a favor. She was only glad that it was something as simple as this.
“She’d be beside herself, I assure you,” Fletcher said. “This week, perhaps?”
Angie smiled, not surprised that he was pushing her for a specific day. “Of course,” she agreed. “I hadn’t planned on going this week, but I’m sure I can fit it in. And I’ll bring Amelia in next week. Perhaps Monday?” If he could play that game, so could she.
“Yes, yes. That will do.” Mr. Fletcher nodded, clearly done with the meeting.
“Until then, Mr. Fletcher. Thank you for your time.”
“Anything for you, Mrs. Barrington.” He bowed but didn’t move from behind his desk. His manners apparently only went so far.
~While that’s not the actual end of the scene, that’s where I’m stopping it today!
~Laura
*whispers, you can get your own copy of Amelia here as an ebook or paperback. And here‘s my website
the start of a good life 