We reach an intersection where he could easily turn around, but he keeps driving straight. My hand slips halfway inside my purse, and I can feel the phone under the tips of my fingers. “It’s hard. Starting a new job,” I say casually. “Have you made any friends? Did you ask Teobaldo to show you the ropes? He’s been working for us for more than a decade.” “Yes, he was very eager to give me the basics.” “That’s great.” My pulse skyrockets. There is no Teobaldo working for my dad.
