Chapter 12
“If you’re ready to eat, the jambalaya is ready.
” Jo ladled the Creole dish she’d learned from her grandmother over long-grain rice simmered in stock.
The aroma of yellow onion, celery, and green bell pepper mixed with garlic, paprika, cayenne pepper, thyme, and oregano reminded her of her childhood.
Maileah jumped up from the table where they’d set up to work. “Come on, Junie, we’d better get ours before Rocky does. I’ve seen him eat.”
“You’d better hurry, because that smells incredible,” Rocky said. “What’s in it?”
“A lot of veggies and spices,” Jo said. “For the protein, I added chicken, andouille sausage, and freshwater crawfish from California. Our season is later than in Louisiana. Or you could use shrimp.”
“I love Cajun food,” Rocky said, rubbing his hands together.
Jo inclined her head. “My grandmother’s family lived in New Orleans for a while, so this is more Creole than Cajun, because we add tomatoes and tomato sauce. Both originated from Spanish paella, though. Bon appétit, everyone. Let the good times roll.”
They all laughed, left their laptops, and gathered in the kitchen. They ate as they continued this morning's conversation about the crowdfunding tiers they thought supporters would like.
Rocky was the first to finish. “There’s more if you want it. This is family-style, so help yourself.” She’d filled a container for Knox and Penny, and Junie would take it to them after she finished.
“I’ve been sourcing products and getting cost quotes,” Junie said to the small group. “Maileah helped organize the tier packages, pretty much as you envisioned, Jo.”
“Let’s hear it,” Rocky said, returning with his second helping.
Junie ticked off the tiers on her fingers. “Entry tier. A single bag of the Queen’s Blend with a Cuppa Jo’s recipe card. I see it in heavy card stock, printed with your diner recipes, like your famous sweet potato fries with garlic aioli. Do you have any recipes that include coffee?”
Jo smiled between bites. “Sure do. From brownies to braised beef.”
“People would love those,” Maileah said.
“Next tier up,” Junie said. “Your idea, Jo. A two-blend sampler with your new branded ceramic mug. You already have the supplier.”
“What about tumblers?” Rocky asked. “For iced coffee. People use those every day.”
“Jo already thought of that, and I have a quote on insulated tumblers,” Junie said. “White with the red logo, or the inverse. They’d pair well with the sampler.”
After Rocky finished, they put their dishes in the sink and returned to the table.
Junie picked up the container Jo had filled. “I’ll be right back. Thanks for this, Jo.”
While she was gone, they turned on their laptops and pulled up their documents.
Rocky looked at Jo and smiled. “I enjoy working with you like this.”
“So do I,” Jo replied, feeling the warmth of his words.
Junie returned a few minutes later.
“What about the tote bag?” Jo asked after Junie sat down. “The sturdy canvas types. Did you find a supplier?”
“Sure did.” Junie grinned. “From a woman-owned company I use. Natural canvas, red logo, reinforced handles. These would sell at the diner even after the campaign ends.”
“Okay, but here’s where it gets interesting,” Maileah said. “You need items that are exclusive to the campaign. Things people can’t buy later. That creates urgency.”
“Like what?” Jo asked.
“A founding supporter mug. A limited-edition design or color that you’ll never produce again. Once the campaign closes, it’s gone. People collect things like that.”
“I love that,” Junie said, making a note.
“What else do you have that’s uniquely yours?” Maileah asked. “Not the coffee. Something from the diner itself.”
Jo thought for a moment. “My herb salt blend. Rosemary, oregano, garlic, sea salt, and pepper. And chili pepper, I almost forgot—that’s the mystery ingredient. It’s what I use on the sweet potato fries.”
Junie nodded. “People would want that.”
“I can put it in small jars with a Cuppa Jo’s label,” Jo said. “That’s another specialty item I could sell.”
“Add it to a mid-tier bundle,” Rocky said, jotting on his spreadsheet. “Here’s a note about Jo’s Crown Island Morning box. What’s in that, Jo?”
“A bag each of the Sumatra and Queen’s Blend coffees, a branded dish towel and apron set, and all the rest up to that point, plus the egg croissant and green smoothie recipes. It’s breakfast at my counter.”
Rocky frowned. “Should you be giving away your recipes?”
“If they’re local customers, they come for the experience,” Jo replied. “They don’t want to cook. And if they’re not, that’s fine, too.”
“That’s the brand,” Maileah said, nodding. “Everything should feel like Jo touched it.”
“What about the Jam Session box?” Jo asked. “I’ve been thinking about that one.”
“Walk me through it,” Maileah said.
Jo looked at her notes. “All of the above, plus a playlist card of Adrian’s Friday night setlist. The songs people sing along to. I’d print it on a card the same size as the recipe cards, maybe with a little note about the history of the jam sessions.”
“Music is free to curate,” Rocky said. “No licensing cost if it’s just a playlist they can look up on their own.”
“And it adds personality without adding expense,” Junie added. “But you need more in that.”
Jo considered what else she could provide. “Since I often serve jambalaya as a Friday night special, I could add that recipe and create a spice kit for it. I could make that at the same time as the other spice blend.”
“Great idea.” Maileah was typing on her laptop. “I’m adding these to your dashboard. The Jam Session box is your signature tier. It’s the one people will screenshot and share.”
Jo moved on to the premium level. “Top of the line is the Imperial Kona Reserve. All the above, plus a signed bag with a personal note from me and a photo card of Mahina’s groves.”
“Signed by you?” Rocky asked.
Jo nodded. “Every one of them.”
“What about a subscription?” Junie suggested. “Monthly coffee delivery. Three months, six months, twelve months. Each tier gets a higher discount. It’s good to have your favorite coffee on hand all the time. It’s one less thing to think about or add to your list.”
“Absolutely. Thanks, Junie.” Jo liked that idea a lot.
“That’s your recurring revenue,” Rocky said, circling something on his spreadsheet. “Even after the campaign ends, those subscribers keep ordering. That’s how you build the business long-term.”
Jo made a note. She’d need to plan fulfillment carefully, but the local women she planned to hire could continue managing the monthly packing after the initial campaign orders went out.
“One more thing,” Maileah said, looking at Jo. “You need a stretch goal. Something to unlock if you blow past your target.”
“Rocky mentioned that. I’ve been thinking about a fourth blend.”
“Don’t reveal it,” Maileah said quickly. “Tease it. Something like, ‘Help us unlock our mystery fourth blend at a certain level.’ Give people a reason to keep sharing after you’ve funded.”
“I can call it the Imperial Cloud Forest,” Jo said. “Guatemala Antigua, light-medium, single origin.”
“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.
At two o’clock, Junie texted: Just shared your campaign on all my Crown Island Princess channels. Go get ‘em, girl!
Jo watched the numbers. A small bump. Eighteen backers. Three hundred and ten dollars.
Later that afternoon, Maileah shared it. She had ten times Junie’s social media reach, and she’d written a post that positioned Jo as a fellow woman entrepreneur building something meaningful. The next time Jo looked, supporters had nearly doubled.
Hank and Sherri came in for their afternoon dark roast and told Jo they’d backed the campaign for the Jam Session gift box.
“Sherri’s sending one to her sister in Denver,” Hank said, eyeing the white chocolate macadamia nut cookies under glass.
“She’s such a coffee connoisseur,” Sherri added. “She’ll love it and tell her friends.”
“I sure appreciate that.” Jo lifted the glass cover over the cookies and took out two. She put them on napkins for the couple and smiled. “A little something extra for you.”
A little while later, Rocky walked into the diner and sat down at the counter. “Have you been watching the campaign?”
Jo poured coffee for him. “I’ve been trying not to refresh every five minutes, but I’ve been keeping an eye on it.”
“You broke a thousand dollars,” Rocky said. “That’s a good start.”
“I don’t want to jinx it,” Jo said, smiling. “It seems like a long way to reach the goal.”
“You have thirty days,” Rocky said. “A lot can happen in that time.”
“It sure can,” Jo said, thinking about the last month.
This month would be better. She had learned so much that, even if she didn’t make her goal, she would figure out another way.