Jo lifted her gaze to Rocky.
“People think direct trade means you wire money to a farmer and a pallet shows up at your door. It doesn’t work that way. There is international shipping, FDA compliance, customs, shipping logistics. When you’re a small business importing from Colombia or Guatemala, there’s a lot to consider.”
“How do you buy your beans?” Rocky asked.
“I use a specialty broker out of Oakland that oversees the ocean freight and customs clearance. They store the green beans in a temperature-controlled warehouse, and I buy my bags out of that warehouse as I need them.”
“So you don’t have to interact with the growers?”
“I chose to, because I want to know I’m helping support their efforts.” Jo tapped her fingers on the counter. “I’m part of a women’s restaurant owners organization. Some of us flew to the farms and met the women at the cooperative.”
Rocky seemed impressed. “That’s a very cool thing to do.”
“It is.” That was the first time Jo had been out of the country, and she’d loved the experience. “We taste the coffee at its origin and set the price. Above market, always, so they can support their families and growth. The broker handles the logistics, but I choose the farm and dictate the terms. It’s legally imported through Oakland. But morally and operationally, it’s direct trade.”
Rocky sat back. “That’s a sophisticated model.”
“That’s women working together.” She winked at him. “Catch up.”
Grinning, Jo picked up a rag and wiped a spot on the counter. “When I bought this place, I didn’t know any of this. I was twenty-two with very little experience, but I knew I had to make more to support Hugo and myself.”
“Was it like this when you bought it?”
“I cleaned it up a lot but kept most of it original.” Jo glanced around. “I had to recover the stools and cracked booths, upgrade some equipment, and get a new sign.”
“What about the menu—did you make changes on that?”
Jo shook her head. “People like burgers and fries, so I didn’t make many changes. But I upgraded the quality, and word spread fast. The old owner served the worst coffee on the island. He was known for it and, strangely, proud of it. As if you had to be a real man to drink that burnt commercial sludge.”
Rocky chuckled. “He sounds like a character.”
“He sure is. The place wasn’t making much money, and he wanted to retire. I knew I could do better, so I talked him into carrying a loan for me to buy it. If I miss payments, he’s all too eager to take it back, now that I’ve made a success of it. And I’m so close to paying it off. Only two more years.”
She pursed her lips. Two lean years in which she’d also committed to paying the remaining portion of Hugo’s tuition.
Admiration crept into his expression. “So how’d you figure out what to upgrade?”
“Honestly, my customers taught me. The summer crowd, mostly. People coming in from LA, Napa, the Bay Area, Marin County. They knew good coffee and good food. So I listened to every insult.” Jo laughed. “You can learn a lot from people who know what they want and aren’t shy about telling you.”
“I’m impressed,” Rocky said, completely engrossed. “That’s a great success story. Any plans to franchise? You could, you know.”
“Maybe later, but I have another plan right now,” Jo said, taking a chance on sharing more with him. “I’m slowly turning my vision into reality. A little slower than I’d like, but I’m getting there.”
From behind the counter, she brought out a small premium bag of coffee stamped with the Cuppa Jo’s red logo and fitted with a one-way degassing valve.
“Here. Squeeze that.”
Rocky squeezed the valve and inhaled. “Wow, this is an intense, kind of floral-tinged scent. Nothing like the warm house blend.”
“You have a good nose.”
“What is it?”
“That’s one hundred percent Kona,” Jo said. “Single origin, medium roast, from a female-operated family estate on the Big Island.” She watched Rocky’s face change. “I flew to Hawaii and met the grower. Mahina’s family is Hawaiian, and she walked me through her groves. She taught me about the importance of their volcanic soil, elevation, and ocean air. We really connected. I’m lucky to work with her directly.”
“That’s amazing. And Hawaii is domestic,” Rocky added. “No customs, tariffs, or international freight. Do you save money that way?”
“That’s not why I buy from Mahina. It’s because Kona is the best. Mahina and her family mill the green beans, then pack and ship them to me using standard domestic freight. It’s farm direct, and no broker is needed.” Jo set the bag on the counter between them. “I call it the Imperial Kona Reserve. It’s the crown jewel of Crown Island. I only brew it at the counter for customers who know the difference between ordinary coffee and liquid gold and are happy to indulge and pay for it.”
