After Derek left for the office, I poured myself another cup of coffee and headed for my workshop, anxious to get started. I’d left The Secret Garden on my worktable the night before and now I rummaged through drawers and cupboards, pulling out the tools I would need to do a more thorough examination of the book: a metal gauge for measuring, a small scale for weighing, a super-high-powered magnifying glass to take a close-up look at its flaws. I grabbed my camera and began snapping pictures of the book from every angle, including the interior pages.
In only a few hours I needed to get ready for my day at the studio, but that would be enough time to study the book and write up an invoice. The sooner I gave Vera an estimate of the work I wanted to do, the sooner she would pay me. And then I could get started on the job.
I had long ago perfected the art of eating chocolate without getting any on my hands, so after popping two chocolate mint kisses into my mouth, I got down to business. The preliminary details came first. The book measured ten inches tall by seven and a quarter inches wide by two inches thick, and it weighed just over nine hundred grams, or almost two pounds. That was heavy for a children’s book, but, then, any parent who would buy an exquisite book like this for their kid to play with had no idea what was appropriate, anyway.
I weighed and measured in order to establish a base of information. Once the book was finished I would do it all again and compare the original with my final work. My goal was to end up with the exact same numbers I’d started with.
In my notes, I listed the book’s qualities as a conservative book dealer might describe them, which meant keeping my enthusiasm to a minimum.
Full goatskin binding, except for cutout on front.
Front cover with original painting on canvas signed by the artist M. L. Kirk.
Spine divided into six panels with raised bands between, each panel decoratively tooled and title lettered in gilt.
Fine condition externally, with crushed dark green Levant morocco leather decoratively tooled and gilded in a vine-and-rose pattern.
Gilded vine pattern extends to inside board edges with turn-ins decoratively bordered.
Leaf-pattern watermark on endpapers with date and unknown signature on flyleaf.
Sporadic light foxing internally, but otherwise paper clean and bright.
Eight tissue-guarded color plates by M. L. Kirk.
Limitation page indicates limited edition of fifty copies, of which this book is number 6.
Original author signature on limitation page.
Shaking off the dry bookseller’s tone, I gazed at the book from my own perspective.
“You are a pretty thing,” I murmured as I reached for another chocolate mint kiss and tossed it into my mouth. After lobbing the thin foil wrap into the trash can, I checked my hands to make sure they were chocolate-free. Then I picked up my magnifying glass and proceeded to study every inch of the leather cover, making more notes as I went along.
As I’d mentioned to Vera on the show, there were several faded spots on the back cover and I noted their locations. I was certain they wouldn’t take too much time to repair, just a cautious application of the leather cleaner I used.
The spine needed more attention than I’d noticed at first. The gilding had all but disappeared along four of the raised bands, so I decided it would be best if I regilded them all so the intensity of the gold would match exactly. The decorative designs in each panel were still quite vivid so I wouldn’t have to touch them.
I mentally patted myself on the back, knowing that that little decision would save Vera a few hundred dollars. Gilding could be time-consuming work and occasionally had to be repeated once or twice before it was perfect.
Moving on to the front cover, I noted that the unique beveled edge around the painting was rough in one spot. It was almost undetectable, but a good dealer would take money off the price if I didn’t fix it.
I had friends who weren’t this obsessive about their work, but I’d been trained by a bookbinder’s version of a boot-camp instructor. During my apprentice years, Abraham would have gleefully ripped the book apart and made me start over if I’d missed the smallest detail. Consequently, I rarely skipped a step.
Besides that, I was halfway in love with this book. I was excited to get started and determined to give it the best treatment possible.
Once I finished examining the cover, I held the book in my hands and stared at it for a long moment. My throat tightened as my excitement was replaced with a wistful yearning for my dear old mentor, Abraham Karastovsky.
It wasn’t something I ever would have shared with Vera or the viewing audience of This Old Attic, but my own childhood copy of The Secret Garden had been the very catalyst that led me to seek a career in bookbinding and restoration. My own book hadn’t been nearly as grand as Vera’s, of course, but I had cherished it all the same.