Page 21 of Key West Promises

"Leah Lawrence." She found herself charmed despite her usual business-like approach. "Former corporate consultant, current…well, I'm still figuring that part out."

Jack's smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Aren't we all?

He handed her a stack of books. "Here, start with these. The green one's outdated on tax law but brilliant on program development. The blue one's new, good for modern fundraising strategies. And this one," he tapped a worn copy of 'To Kill a Mockingbird,' "is just because everyone involved in social justice should revisit it occasionally."

Leah glanced at the classic novel. "I'm not sure I have time for fiction right now. We have deadlines?—"

"Always time for fiction," Jack interrupted, leading her toward the café area. "Stories remind us why we do the work in the first place. Coffee?"

She should say no. She had a schedule, a to-do list, three more businesses to visit about donations. Instead, she found herself settling onto a barstool at the counter while Jack moved behind it with practiced ease.

"Cuban roast," he said, starting the coffee maker. "Local blend. Like everything else worth knowing in Key West, there's a story behind it."

"You seem to know a lot of stories," Leah observed, setting her stack of books beside her.

"Hazard of the former profession. Never lost the habit of collecting them." He placed a mug in front of her, the aroma rich and inviting. "So tell me about Paradise Harbor House. Not the grant version—the real story."

And somehow, in that quiet bookstore with afternoon light filtering through windows clouded by salty air, Leah found herself doing just that. She told him about Elena's tireless dedication, about Kaitlyn's work with the families, about their dreams of expanding services. Jack listened with the focused attention of someone used to finding the heart of a story, asking questions that made her see their work from new angles.

"You know," he said finally, refilling their cups, "I used to host author events here, before the tourist shops took over the local literary scene. Been looking for a reason to restart them. Paradise Harbor House might be just the cause we need."

Leah's practical nature surfaced through her unexpected enjoyment of their conversation. "A fundraiser?"

"Among other things." Jack's smile held a hint of challenge. "Sometimes the best support isn't just financial. Sometimes it's about creating spaces where stories can be shared, where people can connect beyond their immediate needs."

"That's…" Leah paused, realizing she'd completely lost track of time. The afternoon light had shifted, painting the bookshelves in gold. "Actually, that's exactly what we've been trying to articulate in our grant applications."

"See?" Jack tapped the copy of 'To Kill a Mockingbird.' "Fiction helps. Now, about that event—I was thinking we could start with local authors, maybe some readings from shelter residents, if they're interested. Create a real community dialogue."

Leah found herself nodding, her mind already organizing possibilities. "We'd need to be careful about privacy, make sure everyone's comfortable with the format."

"Of course." Jack's expression turned serious. "I may be out of the journalism game, but I still understand the importance of protecting sources. We'll do it right."

“Thank you so much. We’re working on a sunset cruise fundraiser as well. I hope you’ll join us.”

He smiled and the twinkle in his eye made her heart race.

“I’d love to. When is it?”

“We’re still working on that. I’ll get the information to you just as soon as I know more.”

Looking at him in the warm light of his bookstore, Leah realized she'd completely abandoned her scheduled activities for the day—and for once, she didn't mind. There was something about Jack Calloway that made her want to set aside her spreadsheets and listen to more stories.

"I should go," she said reluctantly, gathering her books. "How much do I owe you?"

Jack waved away her reaching for her wallet. "Consider it an investment in the community. Just promise you'll come back and tell me how the grant writing goes. I may have some contacts from my reporting days who could help."

"I will." Leah turned to leave, then paused. "The coffee was excellent, by the way."

"Come by tomorrow," Jack called after her. "I'll tell you its story."

As she stepped back into the Key West afternoon, Leah realized she was smiling. Her carefully planned day had been thoroughly derailed, but somehow she felt more energized than ever. Maybe sometimes the best plans were the ones that left room for unexpected chapters.

CHAPTER 10

Kaitlyn slumped into her chair at the small kitchen table, exhaustion pressing down on her. She didn’t feel much like talking.

Tess studied her for a moment before breaking the silence. “Do you want to talk about the fundraiser?”

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