Sophia Mahoney
The inside of the mortgage company is streamlined and feels sterile. Sitting on one of two leather chairs in front of the mortgage officer's desk makes Sophia feel as if she's in the principal's office.
She places her hands over her bare knees, then tugs at the hem of her skirt. Well, actually, the silk garment belongs to Tara.
The officer's hands slide over the keys of the keyboard in front of him. Each stroke sends a distinct clicking noise into the air. The nameplate on the man's desk reads Chuck Mackey.
"Look, Mr. Mackey," Sophia says, then clears her throat. "With the recent passing of my uncle, all I'm asking for is an extension so that I can take care of this issue. Please."