Fray agreed to a 280-million-dollar settlement only because he wanted the whole thing to be over.
He grabs the last copy of the Post at the Stop and Shop and somehow resists looking at the paper in line. When he gets back to the car, Leland has the radio cranked to the rock station playing the top 500 songs of all time and she’s singing along to “Heaven,” by Bryan Adams.
“‘You’re all that I want! You’re all that I need!’” She turns down the music and grins at him. “This song has always reminded me of the Calvert Hall junior prom. Remember my lavender dress?”
Fray shakes his head but he can’t stop his smile. “I need coffee,” he says.
Frazier Dooley loves nothing more than a good breakfast place and as soon as he sees Island Kitchen, he knows he’s found one. It’s mid-island, right across the street from the Stop and Shop, as it turns out, so it doesn’t have a water view but the place is loaded with character. The post-and-beam construction is charming, there are lush pink impatiens in the window boxes, it feels rustic and homey—like the island’s kitchen.
Fray and Leland are seated at a two-top inside where Fray immediately detects the scent of Frayed Edge Classic Black. This comes as no surprise because it was his New England sales manager who gave him the name of this place.
A server with a dark ponytail and freckles—her name tag says SARAH—comes over, holding the signature Frayed Edge silver pot, and says, “Coffee?”
“Please,” Fray says, nudging the chunky ceramic mug forward.
“I’ll have tea,” Leland says. “Herbal, if you have it.”
“Right away,” Sarah says. She pours Fray’s coffee and, despite the steam, Fray can’t get it to his mouth fast enough. He looks at Leland. “You’re on a date with me and you’re ordering tea? Herbal tea?”
Leland laughs. “I did it just for that reaction.”
“Excuse me!” Fray calls out. “My beautiful friend here will have coffee as well. This is Frayed Edge, right?”
“That’s all we serve,” Sarah says. She takes a second look at Fray and he watches recognition cross her face. “Oh my God, you’re…”
Leland hoots. “Do you get recognized everywhere you go?”
Sarah pours Leland’s coffee and lowers her voice. “Someone called us yesterday to say you might be coming in. They wanted to make sure we had the signature pots and all the signage.”
“It looks great,” Fray says.
Sarah turns her attention to Leland. “Oh!” she says. “You’re the woman from the New York Post!”
“I don’t work at the Post,” Leland says. “I’m Leland Gladstone of Leland’s Letter?”
Fray gets a sinking feeling. The Post is folded in half on the bench next to him. “We’ll be ready to order in just a minute,” he says.
Fray finishes his first cup of coffee and decides to distract Leland with another topic they’ve been avoiding—their parents. Twenty-five years earlier, Steve Gladstone and Fray’s mother, Sloane, had an affair. Steve ended up leaving Geri Gladstone and marrying Sloane. Fray speaks to his mother sporadically but he hasn’t seen her and Steve in a few years. He gathers that Leland keeps contact to a minimum as well; she aligned herself staunchly with Geri.
He reaches for Leland’s hand. “How funny would it be if we called Steve and Sloane on the way home and told them we’re back together?”
“I’m trying to forget the unfortunate fact that we’re actually step-siblings,” Leland says. At that instant, Leland’s phone pings and she checks the text. “It’s my mother. She…I kid you not, just look at this…she says, ‘Are you with Frazier Dooley?’” Leland holds up the screen of her phone. “Tell me that’s not spooky.”
Sarah shows up with the silver pot and refills both their cups. Fray is starting to sweat.
“We’re ready to order,” he says. “I’ll have the panko eggs Benedict.”
“And I’ll have the bananas Foster French toast,” Leland says.
Sarah leaves and Fray feels his phone buzz again. DEAD TO ME. He declines the call and sighs. “I got the Post for a reason. I think there might be something about me on Page Six.”
“Eeeeeeee!” Leland says. “Let’s look together, come on.” She slides around to his side of the table, picks up the Post, and slaps it down in front of him. “You do the honors.”
Fray stares at the paper. What is he going to find? He tries to remember if he heard any drones during the night.
“Or I can?” Leland says.
“No, I’ll do it.” He opens the paper to Page Six—and there is a photograph of Fray and Leland kissing outside the Nantucket airport. The headline reads: “Frazier Dooley’s Tony Island Getaway with Feminist Icon Leland Gladstone.”
To her credit, Leland doesn’t shriek or scream, but when she pulls her reading glasses out of her purse, he notices her hands are shaking.
“‘Coffee mogul Frazier Dooley greets paramour Leland Gladstone outside Nantucket Memorial Airport. The couple were then whisked away by a private vehicle.’”
Leland turns to Fray and all he can think is how sexy she looks in her glasses, like a naughty librarian. “That’s why our server said I was from the Post,” she whispers. “And that’s why my mother texted. They’ve already seen this.”
Everyone reads the Post, he thinks. But only the brave admit it. He can’t gage where Leland is going to land on this. He’s pretty sure her brand depends on her sexual identity, which is…well, whatever it is, it’s probably not compatible with a weekend rendezvous on the arm of a white male billionaire.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I attract all kinds of attention because of the business. And the whole thing with Anna has made things exponentially worse.”
“Has Anna seen this?” Leland asks. “Was that her calling this morning?”
Fray nods.
“I’m the one who’s sorry,” Leland says. “I know who took this picture. There were two women on my plane who asked for a selfie, and then when we were walking out of the terminal they were behind me and I overheard them recognizing you.”
“So they took our picture and sold it to the Post,” Fray says.
“I’m sure they think they won the internet jackpot,” Leland says. She picks up the paper. “Does ‘feminist icon’ make me sound old?”
“Icon is better than mogul,” Fray says. “Mogul is such an ugly, hobbity word.”
“I can’t believe this,” Leland whispers. “I mean, it wouldn’t be funny except it’s true. I am your weekend paramour.”
“Will you get…canceled?” Fray says. “Will you be hounded by trolls? Do your readers think you sleep with women?”
“My sexuality is considered fluid,” Leland says. “It’s 2023. Everyone’s sexuality is considered fluid, Fray.”
“Oh,” Fray says. His sexuality doesn’t feel fluid; it feel very Leland-specific. “So this isn’t necessarily bad for you, then?”