Derek, aware of my feelings, gave my shoulder a soft squeeze before picking up my empty bowl and sticking it in the dishwasher.
“Thanks.” My cell phone rang, and I recognized the local area code but not the number. “Hello?”
“Good morning, Brooklyn. It’s Trudy.”
My mood brightened instantly. “Trudy, hi. What’s up?”
“I have a surprise for you.” Her voice was brimming with excitement. “I hope you can stop by sometime today.”
“A surprise? Can you give me a hint?”
“No, because you’re too smart. You’d guess it right away.”
I chuckled. “I don’t know how smart I am, but that’s all right. I’ll just have to wait.” I glanced at the kitchen clock and gauged how long I would need to work on the first leather binding that morning. “Would three o’clock be too late to come by?”
“Three o’clock is perfect, dear,” she said. “See you then.”
“Okay. Bye.” I ended the call and looked at Derek. “Looks like I’m going to Trudy’s this afternoon.”
*
Despite my commitment to Ian and the Covington to finish the three medical books, my heart was set on taking some time with the Jules Verne book. I spent a half hour using my gum eraser to carefully wipe along the top edge of the book where most dust and grime settled. The soft eraser was also helpful around the edges of each page where stains were often found. I never used it near the printed lines because there was always a chance that I might wipe away a word. That was never a good thing.
As I turned each page, I could see what other areas would need repairs or deeper cleaning, and made notes as I went from page to page.
From my set of travel tools, I found the short brush with the stiff bristles I used to sweep away any minute bits of dirt and grime that had been ground into the sewn centers. It was important to get rid of as many of the tiny abrasive grains as possible because they could damage the paper.
After my half hour was up, I put the Jules Verne book aside to do the work I was paid to do. First, I cleaned off the table completely and washed my hands. Then I laid out the navy blue leather and, using the first medical book as my yardstick, I measured and cut the first piece, adding an extra inch to all four sides. After the piece was cut, the edges of the leather had to be pared, creating a beveled edge so the turndowns wouldn’t be too bulky.
Paring leather wasn’t quite the same as paring an apple. The first few dozen times I tried to pare leather had been complicated and scary moments for me. If I sliced away too much, I would ruin the entire piece and have to start over. I learned that the angle at which I held the knife was critical to my success—or failure. Learning what techniques and angles worked best took plenty of practice. And since I was left-handed, I couldn’t always follow the person trying to train me. One great thing I’d done for myself was purchase an excellent left-handed paring knife.
I also sharpened my knife regularly using a whetstone and an old-fashioned leather strop. And I always pared my leather on a slab of marble. The harder the surface beneath the leather, the easier it was to do the job.
After I finished paring the new leather cover, I placed the piece on a large cookie sheet and added a thin layer of water to thoroughly moisten it. A few minutes later, I drained off the water and let it air-dry for a little while. I prepared my glue and applied it to the exposed side.
The moisture would make the leather more pliable and easier to stretch and mold to the boards. Since the leather would be moist, I wrapped the entire text block in wax paper, leaving only the front and back cover and spine free to work with. As every book lover in the world knew, moisture and paper did not play well together.
Once everything was ready to go, I balanced the book on its edge, spine side up. Picking up the sheet of leather, I draped it over the spine, adjusting it so that it was evenly centered, then used my hands to begin molding it to the spine and boards, stretching it as I went. I was working with high-quality morocco leather, so it had a bit of give, although it wasn’t as stretchy as sheepskin. When I felt it staying, I began to trim the edges, being careful not to trim too close. It was always better to have too much leather than not enough.
Even though the glue would dry shortly, there was no need to rush the job. I just continued to smooth and press the leather evenly across all the surfaces in order to avoid air pockets. I returned to the spine every few minutes, using my thumbs and a bone folder to press and mold the leather against the raised bands.
“You’re going to be beautiful,” I murmured as I stretched the leather over onto the inside endpapers, creating the turndowns. I knew Ian would be happy with these books.