“My dad owns every law firm in this province,” the lawyer’s daughter laughed after ramming her brand-new Tesla into my old Subaru

a second longer than usual.

“You know,” I said, “I think you might be right.”

The rest of the evening was wonderfully ordinary. We shaped the dough into a lopsided oblong that we both agreed counted as “rustic.” Sophie did, in fact, cut some of the pepperoni into shaky heart shapes, which melted into vaguely anatomical blobs in the oven. We ate on the continue reading …