Page 75 of Bookworm
“You… were?” He glanced around the room, like he was looking for evidence of a flat out brawl.
“Burying the hatchet,” Elijah said, crossing to Adam and giving him one of those bro-like pats on the back.
“And not in each other’s backs, believe it or not,” I added.
“I… don’t really know what to say.” Adam’s gaze was still ping-ponging back and forth between us.
“I had come by to see if I could take you to dinner,” Elijah said, pausing to glance at me. “But why don’t the three of us try that new Thai place around the corner? I hear it’s good.”
“Well…” Adam looked again to me with a panicked expression, like he was trying to find a way to protect me from the dinner. “I think Harper might have plans, but?—”
I shook my head. “No plans. I’d love to join you both,” I said.
“Really?” Adam’s eyes went wide.
“Really.”
“Okay,” Elijah bent to give Verne a butt scratch, hesitating as Jules rubbed against his leg, too. “I’ll uh, just wait downstairs for you two.”
After he shut the door behind him, Adam pulled me into his arms and whispered, “Thank you.”
“He’s your dad and he’s not going anywhere. But also… neither am I.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Then, while the glue is still wet, you use this vice and press the cover and bindings together, letting the tool do the heavy lifting for you.” I turned the crank, demonstrating on a copy ofWuthering HeightsI’d found at a flea market in Maine over the weekend.
It wasn’t worth thousands or anything, but it would turn a decent profit and it was the perfect book to demonstrate on.
The class of eleven students at Dartmouth leaned in, watching as I turned the crank and let the copy ofWuthering Heightssit there.
“Okay,” I said, smiling at Anna Jorney who was sitting in the front row. “One by one, bring up your books and try on the vice.”
Anna hopped out of her seat, cradling her copy of a .50 worn out hardcover I’d bought for the class at a yard sale. She had single handedly gathered ten of her peers who were interested in the class and together we convinced Dr. O’Macklin to hire me for a one-day class on book restoration.
Since I wasn’t sure exactly what to charge, he got a good deal and Adam filmed the whole class for me so that I could put together a pitch reel to send to other universities. I used theentirety of my payment for this class to buy additional materials and each student got a hardcover inexpensive book to work on so they could have before and after pictures of just what book restoration can do to invigorate a weathered, dusty old book.
One by one, the students used the vice to press their newly restored hardcovers onto their books. Adam brought the camera closer, getting some tighter shots of me working with the students and he winked at me from over top of the lens.
My interview with Stanford went so well last week that I’d had a second interview on Monday. Nerves jostled in my belly every time my phone rang or buzzed. I should be getting a call any moment now one way or another to let me know if I got it.
Even if I did get the job, it wouldn’t start until next school year, giving me time to finish the gig at Brown.
But still, I wasn’t sure where that left Adam and me. Elijah had hit the nail directly on the head and as soon as I told Adam about the potential job at Stanford, he encouraged me to send in a cover letter that same night.
But the thought of moving cross country and leaving not only Adam, but also Dad and Addy and my siblings all over again made my stomach swirl with nerves.
I’d done that once in my life. Packed up and left my family. Twice if you count me leaving my Mom, stepdad and brother in London. I didn’t want to do it again. But I also couldn’t pass up a job as good as this.
Adam set the camera on the tripod and it continued filming the students as they one by one used the vice, then crossed over to me where we were out of view of the shot.
He slid his arm around my waist, tugging me against him. “Hey,” he whispered. “This is great. The students are loving it.”
I nodded, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth. They all did seem to really like the class. I glanced over my shoulder where O’Macklin sat on his laptop. He didn’t seem to be paying alot of attention to the class itself, but every so often he’d look up and give me an encouraging smile.
“They are, aren’t they?” I remembered my first time taking a book that was almost disintegrating and cleaning it up. I felt so powerful. So at peace. Like anything could be fixed with just the right amount of time and patience and glue.
“I think you really have something here,” Adam said. “You could teach this as a masterclass yearly in so many places. You could travel to all the universities and it would be cyclical, too because the grad students would phase out every couple of years.”
