Little Help
Ellen took a deep breath as she stepped through the large glass doors of Coldwell Enterprises. She looked around, taking in the sleek, polished marble floors, the modern furniture, and the impressive, high ceilings that made the lobby feel even more imposing. People hustled around, some with papers in hand and others chatting quietly on their phones.
She adjusted her bag on her shoulder, trying to steady her nerves. Ellen walked straight toward the reception desk even though her heart was pounding slightly faster than usual. The receptionist, a young woman with perfectly styled hair and a crisp white blouse, looked up as Ellen approached, she kept her professional smile going strong.
"Good afternoon," the receptionist greeted politely. "How can I assist you today?"
Ellen offered a small smile in return. "I'm here to see Mason Coldwell."