Sophie was a girl who considered herself extremely practical in all things. She did not suffer fools gladly, and took life as it came to her, with few illusions or sentimentality about it. Nature was a cruel bitch, and it didn't care about anyone's happiness or sadness. Society wasn't an awful lot better. There were winners and there were losers, and society didn't much care which side of the fence you fell on.

As the oldest child in a family of seven, she was often called upon to exercise her practicality. Her mother was sweet, but not overly bright, and certainly weak-willed, far too weak-willed to stand up to her father. Her father was an alcoholic, and while he wasn't physically violent he had a habit of shouting whenever things went bad. Nor was he much good for doing anything much around the house.

If the roof leaked, he would father rather put a pot under it than go through the effort of trying to fix it. If a jet on the stove failed, well, there were three more. There were sports to be watched, and beers to be drunk, and anything which got in the way of that tended to raise his voice. He worked as a truck driver, when he worked, while is mother worked as a store clerk.

That they had five children attested more to her mother's habit of forgetting birth control, and her father's refusal to have his temporary pleasure put off, than to any real desire for a large family. And the only reason they could afford to house them all was the house her mother had inherited from her parents when they had died long ago.

The house wasn't in nearly as good a state of repair as it had been when they'd moved in, but at least it had been paid for, leaving them to do little more than pay the taxes.

At nineteen, Sophie was two years into her three year course in Accounting course at the local community college. She'd gotten a partial scholarship due to her high marks in high school, grants and loans from the government, and contributed her own money from waitressing jobs. She still lived at home, however, and was still the most responsible adult in the house.

Her father's attitude toward bills was that the companies demanding money already had more than he, so they could wait. Needless to say, the companies were often unhappy about this attitude, which resulted in phone calls demanding payment.

It was one such phone call, and a search of the garbage which had brought her here to the State Fidelity Bank with butterflies in her stomach. She was wearing her only 'nice' outfit, that being a straight line light gray skirt, green silk blouse, and dark gray, hip length, double breasted business jacket.

Sophie was no fool. She knew very well that the loan manager at the bank cared little or nothing about their economic situation, and was indifferent to what seizing their house would do to their family. What was more, even if he or she did care, they operated within a set of procedures which focused on getting their money back as soon as possible, had cared even less about who that might hurt.

But before going to college she had played soccer with Taylor Conway, and they had become, if not close friends, at least, friendly. Her father had often come to watch the games, and Sophie had gotten to know him, if only a little. In fact, she had often studied him furtively, for he was the kind of man who impressed her.

While the other parents who showed up were often undignified in their shouting and yelling and cheering, while they wore jeans and too-tight slacks and sweatshirts, Mr. Conway always seemed to dress very nicely indeed. Even when he dressed down, his clothes were stylish, clean, pressed, fit perfectly and looked great on him.

He was a handsome man, as well, looking younger than his years, with short dark hair, piercing brown eyes, high cheekbones and a firm jaw. He was friendly, but he had an attitude, a man's attitude, which she had so often wished her father had. He did not browbeat or bully, but his voice was firm, strong, and confident, as was his attitude. He was a man who knew what he wanted, and gave the impression he could handle anything without getting upset.

Sometimes Sophie had fantasized he was her father. Other times she fantasized he was her lover, her boyfriend. He was what a man should be like.

And very few were. The boys in high school, and the boys in college (she did not consider them men) were juvenile in their antics, sniggering adolescents when it came to women and sex, and aside from swaggering braggadocio, there seemed little toughness in them. Sophie liked a sensitive man as well as the next girl, but not one who cried when he was upset!

Sophie didn't cry and didn't expect men to either!

She had always known that Conway was high up in the bank, a vice president, and envied Taylor a father who could provide all the things Sophie could only dream about. But now, after reading the payment demand from the bank, and talking to her father she had settled upon the only means likely to allow them to keep their house, and that was Conway.

For while the house was fully paid, or had been, her father had come to realize that meant he could borrow money against it, and so he had been doing so for some time, running up the debt while only paying the minimum - until, of course, the minimum became too great to pay.

She had thought she had seen, in Conway, a reasonable man, a practical man, much as she thought herself. Surely she could explain things to him and arrange a reasonable payment. It wasn't like the amount was that huge. It was within her means to pay it back, though not now. Perhaps in a few years, paying a bit here and there, in addition to what her father was paying.

That was a longer time-line than the bank had demanded, but Mr. Conway, perhaps, had the authority to overrule that time-line. Or so she hoped.

His office, when she was eventually shown in, was impressive. The best office she'd ever seen had been one of the deans at college. That office had been about the size of her bedroom at home. It had contained a table for conferences with students, a desk, a few chairs, a credenza and a number of file cabinets and book shelves.

This office was three times bigger. It was a corner office, and the two outer walls were entirely of glass. The desk was enormous, and made of some sort of thick stone, more of a table than a desk, really. The carpet was so rich and thick her heels sank deeply into it as she stepped toward the desk.

He rose, however, smiling, wearing what she recognized as a very expensive three piece suit, came around the desk to greet her, and shook her hand, before leading her to a leather sofa in the corner.

"I must say I was surprised and curious when my secretary said you were calling for an appointment, Sophie," he said. "Please sit. Can I have her get you something?"

"Oh no, sir. Thank you very much," she said.

They exchanged some short pleasantries about Taylor and soccer, before Conway got to the point, or rather, asked her to get to the point.

"So what can I do for you, Sophie?" he asked.