Nora read the bank’s confirmation email twice before she let herself believe it. It had arrived at 9:14 on a Tuesday morning, six weeks to the day after she’d first walked into this building — the debt service coverage ratio had actually cleared the covenant floor with real room to spare, instead of the knife-edge margin she’d been modeling for a month.
“It’s done,” she said, turning her laptop around so Desmond could see it without leaning across the table. “1.19. Above the floor, verified, no waiver required.”
Desmond made a sound she’d never heard him make before, something between a laugh and grief finally allowed to let go, and pressed both hands flat against the walnut table like he needed it to hold him up. “Three years,” he said, to no one in particular. “Three years of telling this board it might not be survivable, and I finally get…
Keep reading.
Unlock this story and the entire library.
Or start another story free