Monday was day forty-five.
Without a mortgage commitment, the seller could walk away from 60 Broadway.
The person handling the loan was on vacation. It was Christmas week. The underwriters had spent too much time asking for documents one at a time instead of giving me the full list at the beginning.
I was not the bottleneck.
I wrote the branch manager and asked who could take the escalation. Everyone seemed to be working hard and acting in good faith. That did not change the deadline.
I needed the letter finished.
The note was firm because the stakes were real. I had moved money, signed the contract, completed forms, and responded to every request. Losing the loft because the bank ran out the clock would have been brutal.
Holiday schedules were understandable. The contract did not pause for them.
Buying a home had looked like finding the right place and making an offer. The actual process was a chain of other institutions deciding whether the deal could continue.
Lawyer. Building. Bank. Underwriter. Seller.
Any one of them could create another delay.
None of them would live in the apartment.
This was the low point of the purchase. The apartment felt close enough to picture and uncertain enough to lose. Amanda and I had already started thinking about life there. I was still sending urgent emails during the holiday to keep it alive.
The source from that day does not contain the resolution. It contains the escalation.
Forty-five days. Who can finish this?