“Very interesting.”

“Yeah, I wonder if maybe they’ll get together eventually. Anyway, he wrote a letter of authorization and tucked it inside the book. That’s to let you know he’s consented to let you do whatever is necessary to make it sparkle and shine. So, you think you can clean it up?”

“I can take it apart?”

She laughed. “I guess, but you don’t have to sound so excited about it.”

“Are you serious? I live for that.”

“Good times.” She took another sip of wine.

“It is for me.” I stroked the corded spine, counting the ribs.

“Once it’s cleaned up, they’d also like you to have it appraised.”

“Sure.” Opening the cover, I studied the dentelles, the lacy patterns of gold that were worked into the leather borders. Some dentelles were so intricate and unique, they were as good as a bookbinder’s signature. I couldn’t wait to study this pattern more closely. “I wonder why your mom recommended me to do the work.”

“Apparently, Abraham visited her a few years ago and talked you up.”

“Really?” I smiled softly. “Isn’t that nice?” Abraham had been my bookbinding teacher for years. He’d died a few months back and I still missed him every day. I turned another page with care, unwilling to disturb the binding too much. The book more than one hundred years old, and I was amazed to see that it was written in French.

I turned to a page near the middle of the book and saw a hand-painted illustration of a couple having sex in a most fascinating style. I closed it quickly. Then I couldn’t help but sneak another peek.

“Wow, it’s painted by hand,” I said after clearing my throat. “Isn’t that interesting?”

“Yeah, it’s all about the strokes.” She snickered. “Paint strokes, I mean. Beautiful.”

We both began to giggle. It must’ve been the wine.

Robin let out a deep breath. “Well, hey, speaking of sex…”