Page 20 of Beanful Wishes

“I don’t know.” I stop walking and turn to face her. “Off the record?”

Sophia’s eyes widen in surprise. “Of course. You don’t think I’m here just as a journalist, do you?”

I shrug, shoving back the conflicting feelings that raise their heads like we’re playing a game of Whac-A-Mole.

She puts a hand over her heart. “I won’t tell a soul.”

I swallow hard. “When I was a young teen, my family was struggling financially. I had school and a part-time job, but getting there and back…”

Sophia nods. “That couldn’t have been easy.”

It hadn’t been. Some days I’d find a ride. Others, I walked the five miles home after a long shift. “One day, a brand new bicycle showed up in front of my house with an envelope with my name on it taped to the handlebars.”

Sophia doesn’t say a word, but there is no doubt I have her undivided attention.

“All the note inside said was:Keep moving forward. Someone cares.” And it had meant the world to me at that moment.

“No wonder you’re so passionate about this,” Sophia murmurs. I barely make out the words.

I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. “I was wondering... would you like to have dinner with me? A proper date?”

Her eyes widen in surprise, then soften with a smile. “I’d love to. When were you thinking?”

“How about now?” I suggest, my heart racing.

Sophia’s smile widens. “Works for me. I’m starving.”

We end up at Tom’s seafood restaurant, where he insists we try the new signature dish his chef created to benefit the Wishing Wall. As we share a glass of wine with our meal, the conversation flows easily.

“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for the Wishing Wall project,” I say, my voice soft with sincerity. “Your involvement has meant so much to me.”

Sophia looks down, a hint of worry crossing her face. “I’ve actually been concerned about that. I was worried I might be stealing your spotlight, taking over your project.”

I reach across the table, gently taking her hand. “Sophia, you can steal my spotlight any day. This project is better because of you. Your passion, your creativity—they’ve elevated everything we’ve done.”

Her eyes meet mine, a mix of relief and something deeper shining in them. “Really?”

“Really,” I affirm. “We make a great team, on and off camera.”

Chapter Nine

Sophia

Istroll through the streets of downtown Wilmington, getting a few shots for social media to drum up excitement for the book drive. It’s not going to be a problem. Colorful posters advertising the Reading Oasis event catch my eye at every turn. I pause to snap a photo of a particularly eye-catching one in a café window.

"Are you going to the book drive?" I overhear a woman ask her friend as they walk past me.

"Wouldn't miss it," her friend replies. "I've got a box of old classics I'm donating. It's such a great cause."

I smile to myself, feeling a surge of pride. This is exactly what we'd hoped for—community engagement and enthusiasm. I start a new Instagram story, sharing the poster photo and a quick video of the bustling street.

Within minutes, likes and comments start pouring in. "Can't wait for the event!" one follower writes. "Where can I donate?" asks another. I quickly respond, directing them to the Bookworm's Haven.

Walking up to the bookstore, I'm struck by the flurry of activity. Volunteers stream in and out, carrying boxes of books.Through the window, I see Elena Rossi directing traffic, a clipboard in her hand and a wide smile on her face.

I push open the door, the familiar chime of the bell lost in the excited chatter filling the space. Stacks of books tower precariously on every available surface, and a small stage has been set up in the corner for the author readings happening later this afternoon and into the evening.

"Sophia!" Elena waves me over. "Perfect timing. We could use your social media expertise."

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