“Don’t tell me,” Maileah said, holding up her hand. “Don’t tell anyone. The mystery is the marketing.”
Jo looked at the counter covered in laptops, spreadsheets, and supplier quotes. Three smart people believed in this for her. She appreciated everything they were doing, and she would happily feed them anytime for their help.
“These are really strong tiers,” Maileah said, scrolling through her mock-up. “Every item connects back to you and the diner. The herb salt, recipe cards, and playlist. None of this feels generic. It feels like you and Crown Island.”
“That’s because it is,” Jo said.
Junie reached across the counter and squeezed her hand. “This is going to work, Jo. We’ll go review everything before you press the publish button.”
“Thank you all,” Jo said, taking their hands and hugging them.
When she hugged Rocky, he whispered in her ear. “You deserve this, and so much more, Jo.”
She looked up at him. “Your work has meant so much to me.”
“You mean a lot to me,” he replied, holding her gaze.
She didn’t flinch or look away. Was this the underpinnings of a close friendship, or was it something more? She couldn’t process that right now.
“All right,” she said, turning back to Junie and Maileah. “Let’s finish this campaign.”
They finished late, and at sunrise, Jo was nearly ready to publish the campaign. She sat cross-legged on her bed in her flamingo pajamas with her laptop balanced on a pink pillow.
Briefly, she wondered how her logo would look on pajamas, chuckled to herself, then dismissed the idea.
Maybe later.
She’d written and rewritten the campaign page countless times. The final version was clean and sharp, thanks to Maileah, who had stripped out everything Jo had overexplained.
There was a photo of Jo behind the counter at Cuppa Jo’s, a close-up of the coffee packaging, and her crisp red logo. Plus, photos of her farming suppliers, along with Mahina in her Kona groves, the volcanic soil dark under a deep blue Hawaiian sky.
She reviewed the copy on her dashboard one last time.
Cuppa Jo’s was built on great coffee and the women who grow it. Now we’re bringing that coffee to you. Three signature blends sourced from women-led farms around the world, brought together and packaged for you by Crown Island women. From bean to cup, women lead every step. This is coffee with a story. And you’re part of it.
She hit publish and stared at the screen.
Nothing happened.
She padded to the kitchen, refilled her coffee, and watched the sunrise for a few minutes.
Even though it hadn’t been long, she refreshed the page. One backer. Twelve dollars. Someone had bought a single bag of the Queen’s Blend.
She screamed, did a happy dance, and texted her team of three. And her grandmother.
Jo closed the laptop, showered and dressed, and rode her bike to the diner.
The breakfast rush kept her busy until nearly noon. She checked her phone behind the counter. Four more backers. Seventy dollars. She was thrilled, although the goal seemed far away.
On Rocky’s advice, she’d scaled her goal back to half of what she wanted to make sure her minimum threshold was met. If not, she would receive nothing. Maileah insisted a funded campaign would drive more pledges to the number she really wanted, maybe even surpassing it.
After reviewing other campaign results, she’d agreed. Ten thousand was enough to kick off her venture.
Twenty thousand to reach what she really needed to take care of her debts.
By noon, the number had crept to eleven backers and a hundred and forty dollars. Jo ate half a burger in her office and refreshed the page while she chewed. She told herself that crowdfunding campaigns always started slow. Maileah had warned her. The first day was about seeding the ground. The momentum would build.
She refreshed the screen. Twelve backers. All at the entry level.
