Chapter 13
As the days passed, the campaign numbers continued to climb, a little each day, but not as much as her first day. Still, Jo was hopeful. She’d heard about deep-pocketed backers sometimes swooping in to help a campaign make its goal so that it could fund the entrepreneur.
If the campaign didn’t meet its goal, then it was over. People’s credit cards weren’t charged, and products weren’t sent. After all the work that her friends had put in, Jo hoped that wouldn’t happen.
This is why they’d set the campaign funding level at ten thousand.
Rocky had explained the strategy and shown them the spreadsheet.
That was half of what she needed to work at scale, but she could manage.
On lower quantities of coffee and merchandise, prices were higher, so her profit margins would be slimmer.
That wouldn’t be enough money to expand right away, but she could chip away at her goal. He pointed out that studies showed that when a project looked popular, more people would be interested and fear missing out. FOMO, he called it.
She decided to trust that strategy and went ahead with it. Half would be better than nothing.
Candy came in late that afternoon. “How’s the campaign going? I’ve been passing out the cards you gave me that have the campaign link.”
“It’s all helping,” Jo said. “We’ve almost doubled the first day now. If this keeps up, I think we’ll make it.”
Barely, but she would do everything in her power to make sure it did.
“I’ll change,” Candy said. “Be right back.”
She wondered if Blue had seen the campaign. She hadn’t seen his name on the list of campaign backers. Not that she was watching for it, but how could he miss it? Word of what she was doing was all over Crown Island and featured in the local paper.
She was confident that her customers would carry the campaign to the finish line, and she was figuring out how to ensure that.
Earlier this morning, the campaign had crossed two thousand dollars and sixty-seven backers, or about thirty dollars per person, spread mainly among the lower tiers except for a couple of them.
Jo was breathing easily again, and she'd stopped checking the dashboard every half hour.
“Have you seen this, Jo?” Candy returned, wearing her red-and-white striped blouse. She looked at her phone in confusion. “A customer sent me this. From her social media, I guess.”
Jo was refilling the sugar shakers from a larger bag. “What is it?”
“It’s Blue.”
Jo missed the glass container. “I can’t look at that.”
“That TV interview he did has aired.”
“Well, good for him,” she said, wiping up the sugar she spilled. “Now he’s a star.”
Yet, as soon as she spoke, she wished she could take back her bitter words. She was working on letting him go, but he still had a hold on her heart. Her grandmother had warned it could take a while to get over him.
She rinsed out her dishtowel in the bar sink. “I mean, I’m happy for him if it helps him get what he wants.” That still hurt.
Candy shook her head slowly, pondering her tiny screen. “I don’t understand what all these other comments are about.”
Jo’s ears perked up, and her heart quickened. “Is something wrong with the campaign?”
Maileah had warned her that some people might leave ugly comments, which could hurt the campaign. People had been known to cancel their pledges, even if comments stated something untrue.
Candy looked up. “I don’t know, but I think you should check right away.”
“I’ll get my phone.” Jo’s heart hammered. They’d all put so much effort into this.
Junie raced through the door. “I left the shop early. I had to make sure you saw this. Unless you’ve seen it already.”
Her internal alarm system went off, and Jo stopped. “Seen what?”
Junie thrust out her phone. “Look at that first.”
It was a clip of Blue.
Jo caught a glimpse. Those eyes, that hint of a smile on those lips… She shook her head. “Stop, I can’t watch that.”
“Here, I’ll zoom in.” Junie spread her fingers on the screen. “Look what he’s holding.”
Jo did, and what she saw was unmistakable. “That’s one of my new cups. I don’t understand why he’s holding that.”
“It makes sense to me,” Candy said, still scrolling.
“But why?”
Junie put a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe that’s his favorite cup, or maybe he felt bad for you.”
“Maileah told me this video is all over social media, and—” Junie paused. Her phone dinged, one message after another. “It’s Maileah again.”
“I need to finish these sugar canisters,” Jo said, returning to her task.
A strange look crossed Junie’s face. “I think you should see this.”
“I’ll finish filling the sugar containers,” Candy said, shooting a look at Junie. “Jo, you need to look at that. Take a break.”
“Come on, let’s go outside for a minute,” Junie said, steering her out the front door and under the neon Cuppa Jo’s sign.
“You have to look at this,” Junie insisted.
Jo did. The episode was a short segment of Badges, a show on a streaming platform. The thumbnail clip showed Blue in uniform, walking along the Crown Island boardwalk with the ocean behind him. He looked like a recruitment poster. Determined, square-jawed, impossibly photogenic.
“He must hate that,” Jo said. The Blue she knew would. But this new version of him? She had no idea.
“A lot of people love it.”
“So what if he’s holding one of my cups? Who cares?”
“Plenty of people.” Junie scrolled down to comments. “Have you looked at your phone or social media accounts?”
“No, why?”
“Start reading the comments. And the photos they put in.”
Hot cop, cute cup. What does it say?
Looks like Cuppa Jo’s.
What’s that?
Just searched. It’s his girlfriend’s diner.
OMG is this the hot cop’s girlfriend’s diner?
Forget him…look at her crowdfunder. So cute!!!
Badges brought me here. Backing the Queen’s Blend because WOMEN SUPPORTING WOMEN.
I came for the cop, I stayed for the coffee. Take my money.
She’s the QUEEN of Crown Island! Gotta try the coffee. I’m getting the beach bag, too. Super cute.
Jo read the comments with her hand over her mouth. “What’s going on?”
“Hang on, I’m reading Maileah’s text. She says that’s the power of social media. And that you should check your campaign. She says your numbers are flying.”
Jo and Junie looked at each other in amazement, then Jo flung her arms around Junie.
“Go get your phone and check,” Junie said.
Jo hurried back inside, heading toward her office, with Junie following.
She dug her phone out of her purse, its screen already flooded with notifications, and far too many to read. She opened the app.
“This can’t be right, can it?” Jo’s heart was pounding, but she was still skeptical. Surely this was wrong.
“I think it is,” Junie said. “All those women drooling over Blue ended up supporting you. I don’t know why, but they are. They like what they see.”
Jo scrolled through the dashboard. The campaign was getting traffic from places it hadn’t been before. Comments were appearing from people who didn’t live on Crown Island and had never heard of Cuppa Jo’s.
“Look,” Junie said, pointing to the comments. “They just want to help. Or they like the bag and aprons. So many like the concept, especially your logo.”
Jo could hardly believe what was happening. “All of this is because of Blue?”
Junie shrugged. “You did the heavy lifting. He just lifted the cup.”
“Am I supposed to be grateful for that?” Part of her was, but the other part was still upset with him.
Jo saw Maileah calling and answered.
Maileah let out a whoop. “Are you watching this? This is incredible!”
Her phone buzzed again. This time, it was Rocky. Jo merged the calls and put it on speaker so they could all hear each other.
“You're going to make it,” Rocky said.
“No, we all did it,” Jo replied, sharing the credit. Technically, Blue had done it for her. She wondered if he knew.
“I’ve never seen anything like this happen,” Maileah said. “It’s a total fluke, but run with it all the way to the bank!”
By noon, the campaign had crossed seven thousand dollars. By midnight, it had passed eight, closing in on her first hurdle. She was sitting in bed with her laptop, watching the numbers climb in real time, when her phone buzzed.
It was Blue.
Heard your campaign is blowing up. Congrats.
Thanks. It’s going well.
Boring. She deleted that and typed: It’s been a good day. She deleted the message again and typed: The campaign is doing well. Your interview drove a lot of traffic. People saw the cup.
I’m glad.
She didn’t know what else to say, so she put the phone down and stared at the ceiling.
The money was coming in. And Blue would be gone.
She blinked as her eyes began to fill.
She hadn’t wanted it to happen this way. She’d spent months building her brand, sourcing her beans, writing her story. She’d poured herself into that campaign page. The women’s cooperatives, Mahina’s groves, the all-female supply chain. That was her story.
And now the comments were about the hot cop.
Her phone dinged, and she picked it up to read his new message.
I’m glad people are finding the campaign. I only wish it was because of the coffee, not me.
The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
He finally finished his message: They’ll stay for your coffee. You have what they want.
She read the message twice. Then she typed: That might be the smartest thing you’ve ever said.
I booked my flight. Goodnight, Jo.
Goodnight, Blue.
She had no idea what they were doing anymore. She closed her laptop and lay in the dark, listening to the quiet sounds of Sunshine Avenue. Across the street, Junie and Knox’s house was dark. The neighborhood was asleep.
She reached for her phone to check the crowdfunding app one more time.
Nine thousand dollars.
If this kept up, the campaign would reach its funding level soon. Jo was ecstatic even though she’d wanted to do this on her own. But if people came for the cop and stayed for the coffee, she could live with that.
And then an uncomfortable thought struck her. Had he planned this as a parting gift to her?