The previous night
As Ashanti finalized her deal with Heather on the drive home, Heather informed her Channel had found enough competent employees to spearhead the program.
Arriving home right on time, Ashanti met Zaron at the gates, waiting for her and Heather to start cleaning. Her grandma had unexpectedly changed her arrival date to the next day.
They immediately got to work, joining Mrs. McAdams and Donald in dusting, changing the curtains to fresh, crisp ones, mopping, sweeping, and scrubbing every corner of the house.
"Your grandma must be really hard to please," Heather observed while dusting the seemingly dustless couch.
"Tell me about it. I wish I wouldn't have to be here when she arrives. When she's here, I cease to be the boss," Ashanti complained.
"I wonder what that feels like because you always seem to have everything under control around here," Heather remarked.
"Well, that's what she taught me. To run things without fear. It's what we Goodmans do. But I like the fact that she doesn't scold me in front of the office employees," Ashanti said, picking up the old curtains for laundry. Bruno sneezed simultaneously from his walker.
"What about Bruno, does your grandma know about him?"
"She's fostering him through me. If the authorities say if the stipulated time for his parents' return elapses, we can talk about full adoption. Right now, she allows him to use our name. So that's Bruno Goodman. I think my mom convinced her to, since she's also adopted."
"Oh my gosh, your mom and Dad were siblings?" Heather panicked.
"Oh come on. My mom was adopted in her late teens so she was practically an acquaintance than a daughter. My mom doesn't talk much about how they met, but my Dad always said that he was already in love with her before grandma adopted her."
"Aww, isn't that sweet, Bruno," Heather swooned, pinching his cheeks playfully, and he squirmed. "I seriously think he should be in bed right now; it's almost midnight."
Zaron showed up in the doorway, "Just finished hanging up the portraits."
"We need more hands upstairs," Ashanti informed him before heading out to the laundry room to wash the curtains.
Zaron turned to Bruno, who was chewing on a rubber ducky he had in hand. "Hey there, buddy," he greeted, and the baby giggled, banging the rubber ducky on the colorful buttons on the walker. Various nursery rhymes played at once and stopped.
"I know, I love you too," Zaron beamed.
Ashanti returned and turned to him, "Let's go, we're going to wax all the mirrors up there."
They were done exactly at midnight. The gardener had trimmed all hedges to perfection, the glass windows had all been waxed from downstairs straight upstairs, and they glistened regardless in the dry harmattan weather. Mrs. McAdams made sure to leave no stone unturned in the kitchen, and Mr. McAdams and the other guards cleared out the foyer and backyard where they usually had their fun boys' night.
Ashanti was a lenient boss, but they knew Mrs. Goodman was something else.
Zaron slumped into the cane chair on the porch, tired. "Your grandma must be one hell of a perfectionist," he complained.
"Tell me about it," Ashanti drawled, also sitting in a beanbag opposite him.
"With your personality, she shouldn't be so hard on you. Imagine she had Rebecca Asante for her granddaughter," Heather pointed out, sipping a cup of mocha, and they all had a laugh imagining Ashanti as Rebecca.
"She actually had to be hard on me; I'm a little rebellious if you haven't noticed. And Rebecca is not really that bad. We kind of have a personality clash, me and my Grandma, and she hates the fact that I always want to defy her authority. But come on, we're not in the 20th century anymore, are we?" Ashanti asked rhetorically as her cellphone buzzed.
"Oooh, Guess what?" Ashanti asked, glaring at the screen of her phone.
"An extension of the holidays?" Zaron asked hopefully.
"Nope, our reports are in. The grades and GPAs aren't tallying though. Way to go Nelson's!" Ashanti scoffed.
"2.8 GPA with straight A's is strange," Heather went through her phone with her. "I'm pretty sure mine is on Zara's phone. When I get home, I'll check with her."
"You can call her," Ashanti suggested.
Heather agreed and called them.
"Great, you called, your report is in," Zara said from the other end.
"What was my grade point average?" Heather asked anxiously.
"2.4, which is odd because you had 4 A's." Zara says.
"So it's not just you," Heather said to Ashanti.
"Wait, who?" Zara asked.
"Nothing, it's just Ashanti's was very similar. How's that possible? We'll talk more when I get home."
"Sure, take care of yourself and say hello to Ashanti," Zara said before ending the call.
"This is very odd, I'd better head home before my mom hears about it," Zaron said.
"It's really late; let me drive you," Ashanti offered excitedly.
"Come on, I live a few blocks away," Zaron assured her, concealing the fact that he was eternally petrified of her driving skills.
"I'll get Donald to drop you," Ashanti informed Heather.
OoO
"Look at you, I leave this big house for you and you go messing it up. Have you seen what you've done to my rose bushes?" The older lady yelled fondly the moment she stepped into the house at the crack of dawn.
Ashanti heard the not-so-pleasant greeting and dragged herself out of bed to meet her.
"Grandma, if you haven't noticed, we're in the harmattan season. It is totally normal for an exotic plant you've forced to grow in African soil to shrivel."
"Can we postpone this argument? I have a baby asleep for crying out loud. I'll help with the luggage so you can rest," Ashanti drawled, descending the stairs and helping Donald with the bags while her grandma stood appalled.
She knew being in a Ghanaian school would have a tremendous effect on her granddaughter, and it seemed to have. The house was spotlessly clean, and she voiced out her emotions now, rather than acting out like she previously used to do.
"I think I'm dizzy. Must be jet lag. I'm going to get some rest. I want to wake up to breakfast, understood?" she called out to Ashanti down the hallway.
"Tone it down, grandma," Ashanti stage whispered, and the old lady forced away the smile struggling to cross her face.
Ashanti's grandmother's idea of breakfast was banku with okra soup, which she could rarely prepare for herself in London but always made it her granddaughter's chore whenever they met.
Inwardly, Ashanti was excited to have at least one other relative in the house who wasn't Donald. The house suddenly felt homier than the previous night when she was cleaning her room while listening to Asake's "Lonely at the Top" blurring through the speakers of the house nursing a glass of Irish cream all alone.
The week was looking better because she had done everything to keep her grandma appeased for at least a week. She might still be mad at her because of the scandal in school regarding her and Zaron at the chapel.
Ashanti went to work preparing her grandma's 'breakfast'. Forty-five minutes later, while she balled up the last of the banku, she heard a cry from the baby monitor. The stew was still in progress as it simmered gently on the stove. Ashanti wiped her hands and went upstairs for Bruno. She brought him downstairs for water and placed him in his walker in the hallway where he wouldn't knock anything down.
She returned to cooking until he started crying again. She ignored him until she was done and turned off the stove.
"Oooh, B, you love to cry, don't you?" she cooed, picking him up out of the walker, and he stared at her as if to ask a question.
"I know, I look strange this morning. How about some of grandma's breakfast?" she asked.
Feeding him anything with okra soup was much easier; he loved it.
Her grandma woke up an hour later.
"I have a tight schedule. The company and a funeral this Saturday that you are going to be my plus one to."
"What? A funeral? We never agreed on going to a funeral together," Ashanti dismissed.
"What? Don't I have a right to show off my granddaughter to those nasty old ladies who think I don't have a descendant after Pharel passed away?"
"Grandma."
"Efriyie, we're going to the seamstress today for your measurements. We're going to be in the funeral cloth; you're free to choose any decent style you want."
Ashanti was both amazed and petrified at the audacity of this woman.
"You don't get to complain after what Leticia told me you were doing with a boy in the chapel," Ashanti immediately deflated.
"You know that is not true; I'll never do any of that," Ashanti says in her defense.
"I really want to believe that, but I seemed to have missed a lot in your life, so how about this special bonding?"
OoO
"Ciarra's big day had finally arrived, but all her friends had other plans. Rufidat was going to be there anyway, so that was something. Her parents stood at the foot of the stairs, waiting for her to change into the new dress they had bought her for the recital. She glared at the dress from her bed until someone barged in, nearly giving her a heart attack.
"Oh my gosh, Jasmine, knock!"
"What are you doing, watching your dress watch you?" Jasmine asked.
"I want to stay in bed."
"No, no sis, this is not the time to develop cold feet. I postponed all my appointments for the next two hours to come watch you, so save me all that sass," Jasmine said, picking up the dress and literally forcing her into it, tickling her whenever she wouldn't budge.
She ran a brush through her hair and picked up her shoes from the rack before dragging her downstairs.
"One daughter coming up!" Jasmine declared like she was waiting at a restaurant as they descended the stairs. "Told you I'd bring your daughter down."
"Aww, sweetie, she looks so grown up now. A few years ago she was our little Juni— Don't call me that," Ciarra cut her mother off.
"But— No mom, my name is not Junior, my name is Ciarra."
"Okay, where's the violin?" Her father tried to change the subject.
"I'll go get it," Jasmine suggested.
"School's in a week, what do you plan on doing after this?" Her mother asked.
"Study," she said monotonously. She was grounded until she was like 80.
"How about we go out together as a family— No!" She immediately declined.
"But you loved family outings," her mother went on.
"Can we please just go," Ciarra sighed and walked out the doors of the house.
Her father gestured to her mom to let go of the subject.
"I think we should spend time with her. It's like we don't know her anymore," her mother suggested when she was out of earshot.
"She doesn't want to do anything with us. I think we should give her some space. She went through a lot a few months ago, Roland, the chaos in her school. It's okay to be overwhelmed," Mr. Asher said.
"How much more time does she need? Asher, Ciarra doesn't talk to me anymore, not even about fashion or makeup. It's like she's a whole new different person after enrolling in that public school. Maybe we should take her out."
"I think it's time to let her figure things out on her own. She'll hate it if we interfere, and she might drift faster," Mr. Asher went on.
"I found it," Jasmine called out as she descended the stairs.
"Let's go."
The auditorium was packed as Ciarra peeked through the curtains from backstage. Now she was nervous.
Their orchestra was announced; she played second violin in the orchestra performance and had a solo after that. Though she had rehearsed several times, she wondered if she could get it right. Rufidat showed up backstage.
"Go girl!" She teased, embracing her best friend.
"I'm so nervous," she stated.
"You've got this. I've got a surprise for you when you get on stage."
"What?...I hate surprises. Don't tell me you made a banner or something," Ciarra stated. "How did you get back here anyway?"
"As I said, it's a surprise," she winked at her, totally ignoring her question and exited the place, calling out to her, "Break a leg, Cece!"
Ciarra rolled her eyes and prepared herself for her solo.
The moment she stepped on stage, her resolve to not look at the crowd crumbled. She glanced through the applauding audience, and her eyes caught that of one person, her heart skipped a beat. She quickly regained her composure.
Kobby was here? He smiled back at her, one of his alluring and yet heartwarming smiles. She grinned and held onto her violin as she started the intro to Schubert's Serenade for her powerful soprano vocalist. It was a wonderful performance as she concluded with a moderated time signature. The applause said it all. They both bowed to the audience and shook hands with each other before exiting the stage.
Her father met her with a bouquet of dahlias. She smiled and thanked him. Her mother went straight in for a hug.
"I told you you could do it!"
"Now postponing my patients is finally going to pay off. Congratulations, sis!" she said happily embracing her, "I've got to go now, before someone dies on my watch."
Jasmine turned to have a word with her parents before leaving. Ciarra stood with Rufidat and glanced far off into the distance spotting him in a tailored three-piece suit. Sometimes Kobby can just take your breath away without trying. In his grey suit, slacks, and vest over a crisp white shirt and navy blue tie plus brown chinos, he looked like the envisioning of a bachelor.
She walked over to him and embraced him.
"Oh, I thought we're not doing any PDA," he chuckled, hugging her back. "Missed me?"
"I didn't know you were coming. I thought yesterday was going to be too hectic."
"You really underestimate me, Ciarra McAllister-Attoh. I bought front-row tickets just to see you," he whispered into her ears from the hubbub, and she giggled from the effect.
"Who is that boy?" her mother gestured with her head at Kobby from a distance when Jasmine had left.
"Oh...he's quite familiar. They sit together in class; he's Charlie Johnson's boy," her father explained.
"Charles Johnson as in Stallion Motors' Kobby Johnson?"
"Yeah, don't worry, they're just classmates," Dr. Asher assures her.
"She looks happier talking to him than she did when I was speaking to her," her mother argues.
Ciarra insists Kobby had to come meet her parents else she wouldn't hear the end of it throughout the ride home. She dragged him to them.
"Dad, you already met Kobby, right?"
"Johnson, I remember. You look like a good young man."
"Glad to make your acquaintance, Dr. Asher."
"Likewise," the older man beams. Another man called out from afar. It was the Deputy Minister of Health, a good friend of Dr. Asher's. His daughter, who had just performed with Ciarra, trailed behind him.
"Your girl made my daughter shine tonight," he said, shaking hands with everyone before turning to Ciarra, "Congratulations, sweetheart."
"Your daughter sings soprano?" Mrs. McAllister asked, surprised.
"Ever since elementary school," he says proudly, "I think this calls for a celebration, since it's rare to find you at one place, Doc!"
"I know a place we can go," Dr. Asher suggests.
"With the kids? No, no, no. Let's go a place for the big boys. You can leave the kids with Brandon, my chauffeur. We have a lot to talk about. Adjoa is in the car waiting," he refers to his wife.
"As a matter of fact, you're right, we have a lot to discuss. Sweetie, you should get to know Doc's daughter if you two performed together. Brandon should bring you home by 11 pm, not a second more," Dr. Asher warns, taking out his card and handing it to Rufidat. "I don't know, but I trust her more."
"Dad!" Ciarra protested.
"Be good children," he hugs his daughter before taking his leave.
Brandon walked over.
"Hi, I'm Gyamfua. You must be Ciarra," the girl finally introduced.
"Yeah, I just met your Dad. He's really nice," she said before turning to Kobby; she just smiled absentmindedly, and Rufidat threw an arm around her shoulder and gave her the info in a whisper, "Forget it, they're together."
"Oh," was all she could say.
"Kobby Johnson," he introduced.
"I already know you, I was at your party last night. My Dad almost murdered me for coming home late when I knew I had a performance today."
"How many people did those boys invite without my permission?" Kobby asked himself.
"A ton. My best friend was there, and she doesn't even know about the Kobby Johnson dynasty."
"Lot of uninvited guests, huh?" Ciarra probes.
"Brandon is waiting for us, let's pick a destination," he suggests, quickly changing the subject.
"Cantonments-Osu. You know that's the enjoyment hub of Accra. We need specifics."
"Firefly, Peterpan, Cloud Nine, Rocomama's, Bistro 22, Rose garden, Ocean Basket, Regal, and if you're in for dessert, Cupcake Boutique," Brandon lists out.
"Narrow it down to three; I don't think we'll be able to go to all these places before 11 pm." Gyamfua suggests.
"Alright. Here we go!" Brandon grins.
It was a great thing she had fun before getting home because Ciarra's house was the definition of chaos when she got home. Her parents took her grades upon themselves. She was just fortunate her sister was there from her shift; else she would have been in a worse situation.
"I mean, what is this?! I sent you to that school to prove to the Council that I have their best interests at heart and that my daughter can survive public school...now look at this?" her father was beyond furious.
"Do you know what they'll be telling us now...'see your own kid can't thrive in a public school and here you are trying to tell us you understand what our children go through!' What the hell?!" her mother yelled, tossing the printed results at her.
Ciarra clung to Jasmine, hiding behind her.
Jasmine picked up the sheets; she felt bad for Ciarra. She had set such high standards that her parents were constantly comparing her younger sister to her in everything.
"But this isn't so bad. She had 7 A's and 3 B's," Jasmine tries to justify.
"Have you seen her grade point average?" her father asked, and she went through the sheets again.
2.9; that was not her usual grade, but it wasn't so bad.
"How's that possible with such grades?" Jasmine wonders, "I'm sure there is a good explanation for this. Why don't you call her teachers?"
"School hasn't reopened, so I am not so sure," her mother says.
"I have Francis' contact. Let me give him a call," Dr. Asher says, going through his phone.
Ciarra took the advantage to slip away.
He picked up on the second call.
"Dr. Asher, what a surprise."
"How are your holidays?"
"Great, sir."
"Well, I called because of the issue of my daughter's grades. Her grade point average seems to be of a low magnitude compared to her individual grades."
"I have received a couple of calls from worried parents as well, and I think the problem must do with extracurricular activities."
"How is that supposed to help my ward academically?" Mr. Asher asks boldly.
"Well, if you ask her, she will tell you. Probably it just escaped her mind, but Nelson is one of the most elite public schools in the country. Our alumni are made up of the top-ranking people both international and here in our country. As a result, we do not want to lose our name. In recent years, some students who graduated from the school and didn't thrive academically in colleges and other places they went to have resorted to a lot of social vices. To avoid this trend from continuing, the school made efforts to minimize this problem by enforcing extracurricular activities."
"But there has been no extracurricular activity graded here," Mr. Asher informs him.
"True, sir, we don't write it down, but it makes 50% of the grades depending on the clubs and the number of clubs they are in. We want them to have a spare creativity handy in case they don't really want to go up the educational ladder. It has worked for many kids who graduated and didn't plan on pursuing academic stuff in college."
Ciarra couldn't tell him she joined the Junior Jury. Her father consistently insisted lawyers, judges, and the like were very corrupt.
"Don't worry, sir, I'll take her through clubs this semester."
"Thank you very much, Mr. Francis, I'll do well to show you some gratitude," he says and ends the call with a huge sigh.
"Tell her to go to her room; we'll talk about this tomorrow," he says to Jasmine, who nods and retreats to join Ciarra on the patio where she sat.
"What went wrong?" Ciarra immediately asked when she saw her.
"Ignore them. They expect too much perfection," Jasmine tries to comfort her.
"It is so frustrating how they are frequently keeping tabs on me," Ciarra complains.
"At least it's over for now...hey, who do you think was in the most clubs."
"Kobby, I think. Let me text him...I thought your phone..." Jasmine trails when she noticed Ciarra's new phone.
"Where did you get that from?" She whisper-shouts.
"Kobby bought it for me tonight," she said, typing in her message.
He replied in a few seconds: "3.4. 5A's."
"I have got to join more clubs officially. I am only an official member of the Science and Maths club only."
"How many clubs are in your school?"
"I know about eight. I think there's the Science and Math club, Drama club, Photography club, Music and Dance club, American Field Service, Ghana United Nations Students Association, Scripture Union, and Junior Jury."
"Hmm, Junior Jury, you love those stuff," Jasmine beams.
" I really can't. Mom and Dad are already questioning my honesty; they can't find out I want to do that, else they will start to think every mistake I make is related to it."
"Well then, which one will you like to choose?"
"I still need to join the Junior Jury to help some people I care about, but I wouldn't be an official member. I think I'll take GUNSA and AFS."
"Even though that sounds really depressing and wouldn't be the choice I will jump at, I'll go with it," Jasmine comments as her phone dings. She swiped and blushed.
"Oooh, you're getting mushy all over again like those days I had to lie to Dad about your whereabouts. It's Vincent, isn't it?" Ciarra teases.
"Yup," Jasmine says, showing her the picture he'd just sent her.
It was their bed with white sheets and red rose petals drawing a heart on it. The floor of the room was covered in white rose petals, and scented candles were at vantage points.
"Awwwn... That's so romantic; I'm kind of jealous of you right now," Ciarra swoons.
"Oh come on, we all know your boyfriend can think of better ideas than this if you guys are willing to raise up the bar of your relationship. He flew you fireworks spelling out his feelings to you, how cheesy is that?" Jasmine teases, "He just defied mom and Dad and got you a phone!"
"Come on... but I've got to ask, are you two trying for a baby?!"
Jasmine gasped dramatically.
"Ciarra, that is none of your business. I don't know if it's appropriate to share that kind of information with an underage, but there again we are in the 21st century where teenagers know everything. So I will say no... it's just our special night together."
"Good, because I wasn't planning to be an Aunt just yet."
"Two years ago you would have acted squeamish at the thought of that subject, and now you are talking so openly about it? What happened to my baby sister?" This got her to chuckle as Jasmine ruffled her hair.
"I don't know; I'm thinking it is all the school things. Everyone is trying to experiment; someone even asked me why I don't let Kobby kiss me and that I am old fashioned."
" It's not about being old fashioned it is about choices and I think yours is one of the best I have heard. If you two end up in trouble, none of those people would be the actual people who will suffer. It would be you two so you have to watch what you guys do and talk about. It actually makes
him respect you even more. Why do you think he always comes back to you? Because he knows you're not an easy move."
" He still goes sometimes."
" You knew that before picking up the challenge. He's a Kobby Johnson, that's what they do. If you guys have to grow up, I don't see him with any other girl but you. If he ends up with a guileless girl he would hurt her tremendously and if he ends up with someone like himself their relationship will always be on fire. He will have to go with someone he has dated for a long time and who knows everything about him so that even when he slips up their marriage will still stand."
" Honestly, I don't see Kobby married...I don't see us married."
" Then why are you two dating if there is no aim to the relationship.
You're still a teenager so marriage definitely looks blur in your mind's eye but as you grow and end up in college your eyes are bound to be opened. It happened to me and I ended up with Vincent. Be patient." Jasmine assures, " All the boundaries mom and Dad set for you are to protect you. They love you more than you can fathom so please listen to them."
Her cellphone buzzed again and she decided it was time to go home.
He replied in a few seconds: "3.4. 5A's."
"I have got to join more clubs officially. I am only an official member of the Science and Maths club only."
"How many clubs are in your school?"
"I know about eight. I think there's the Science and Math club, Drama club, Photography club, Music and Dance club, American Field Service, Ghana United Nations Students Association, Scripture Union, and Junior Jury."
"Hmm, Junior Jury, you love those stuff," Jasmine beams.
"I really can't. Mom and Dad are already questioning my honesty; they can't find out I want to do that, else they will start to think every mistake I make is related to it."
"Well then, which one will you like to choose?"
"I still need to join the Junior Jury to help some people I care about, but I wouldn't be an official member. I think I'll take GUNSA and AFS."
"Even though that sounds really depressing and wouldn't be the choice I will jump at, I'll go with it," Jasmine comments as her phone dings. She swiped and blushed.
"Oooh, you're getting mushy all over again like those days I had to lie to Dad about your whereabouts. It's Vincent, isn't it?" Ciarra teases.
"Yup," Jasmine says, showing her the picture he'd just sent her.
It was their bed with white sheets and red rose petals drawing a heart on it. The floor of the room was covered in white rose petals, and scented candles were at vantage points.
"Awwwn... That's so romantic; I'm kind of jealous of you right now," Ciarra swoons.
"Oh come on, we all know your boyfriend can think of better ideas than this if you guys are willing to raise up the bar of your relationship. He flew you fireworks spelling out his feelings to you, how cheesy is that?" Jasmine teases, "He just defied mom and Dad and got you a phone!"
"Come on... but I've got to ask, are you two trying for a baby?!"
Jasmine gasped dramatically.
"Ciarra, that is none of your business. I don't know if it's appropriate to share that kind of information with an underage, but there again we are in the 21st century where teenagers know everything. So I will say no... it's just our special night together."
"Good, because I wasn't planning to be an Aunt just yet."
"Two years ago you would have acted squeamish at the thought of that subject, and now you are talking so openly about it? What happened to my baby sister?" This got her to chuckle as Jasmine ruffled her hair.
"I don't know; I'm thinking it is all the school things. Everyone is trying to experiment; someone even asked me why I don't let Kobby kiss me and that I am old fashioned."
"It's not about being old fashioned; it is about choices, and I think yours is one of the best I have heard. If you two end up in trouble, none of those people would be the actual people who will suffer. It would be you two so you have to watch what you guys do and talk about. It actually makes him respect you even more. Why do you think he always comes back to you? Because he knows you're not an easy move."
"He still goes sometimes."
"You knew that before picking up the challenge. He's a Kobby Johnson; that's what they do. If you guys have to grow up, I don't see him with any other girl but you. If he ends up with a guileless girl he would hurt her tremendously, and if he ends up with someone like himself their relationship will always be on fire. He will have to go with someone he has dated for a long time and who knows everything about him so that even when he slips up their marriage will still stand."
"Honestly, I don't see Kobby married... I don't see us married."
"Then why are you two dating if there is no aim to the relationship? You're still a teenager so marriage definitely looks blur in your mind's eye, but as you grow and end up in college your eyes are bound to be opened. It happened to me, and I ended up with Vincent. Be patient," Jasmine assures, "All the boundaries mom and Dad set for you are to protect you. They love you more than you can fathom, so please listen to them."
Her cellphone buzzed again, and she decided it was time to go home."
OoO
The Accounts department of Autojo sent Ashanti an email later that afternoon confirming her purchase agreement, it was carbon copied to the Finance Department of Tech Fields.
She received a text from Kobby
@KobbyV- I keep my word, don't I?
Ashanti smiled and sent him a heartbeat emoji.
Mrs Goodman was ready to go into the company for her annual review of the branch. Everyone was on top of their job because Mrs Goodman, wasn't one to be toyed with. Ashanti followed from behind with her progress folder. She was visibly surprised by the new order she inspected.
She stopped abruptly when her eyes struck something.
*******************