Chapter Text
The best part of Olivia’s evening routine was opening her laptop after fulfilling her nightly obligations of washing the day from her face and brushing her teeth. She liked replying to NY152’s email messages when she had nothing else to concern herself with. She usually sat on the bed, but since Kurt had moved out she had the desk to herself.
It faced the center of the bay window, framing her in the scenery of her Upper West Side neighborhood. Kurt used to insist on keeping the curtains closed, but unless Olivia was naked, she kept them open. She’d been a New Yorker her entire life and the beauty of the city – especially in autumn – never failed to take her breath away.
Olivia clicked reply and stared at the blank white space, smiling as she considered what to write.
Weekday mornings were the most chaotic time in the Stabler home. The children were in three different schools, with three different modes of transportation. Elliot engaged in combat with his eldest daughter each day over her wardrobe and the importance of eating breakfast. Kathleen was prone to falling asleep on the sofa and missing her bus. Dickie often misplaced his shoes and Lizzie had to make it known that she hated riding in the back of Mrs. Murphy’s car.
Elliot counted to ten after the last child was out the door, and when he was certain no one had forgotten any homework or their lunch, he bathed in the silence before opening his laptop at the kitchen table. He connected to the internet while he brewed a pot of coffee. He smiled at the robotic voice announcing, “You’ve got mail,” and sat down to review his messages.
In the wake of his wife’s passing, Elliot’s temper was paper thin, and he began to resemble the withdrawn man his father had been. Friends had encouraged him to attend grief counseling. He’d found it easier to talk about his feelings anonymously in a chat room, and one year later his only connection to the online grief support group was a woman who called herself Shopgirl. They had exchanged email addresses and began corresponding privately, although she insisted on not revealing their real names or occupations. It didn’t matter – names or not, she helped keep him calm and gave him something to look forward to each day.
Elliot opened Shopgirl’s latest message to him.
From: Shopgirl
To: NY152
Subject: Hi Friend
I like to start my messages to you like we’re in the middle of a conversation. I pretend we’re the oldest and dearest friends, as opposed to what we actually are, people who don’t know each other’s names, and met in a chat room to talk through our respective grief. I turn on my computer and wait impatiently for it to connect. My breath catches in my chest until I hear three little words: you’ve got mail. I have mail from you, and I can’t wait to see what you have to say each time. You must think I have something to hide, and I hope you believe me when I say that’s not true. The truth is, NY152, I am more myself with you than anyone else.
Olivia left her apartment every morning at eight o’clock. It gave her exactly enough time to pick up a latte at Java Jake’s and inhale the smell of freshly baked pastries as she passed Betty’s Bakery. She usually made it to the next intersection before retracing her steps to buy a chocolate croissant or apple fritter. She admired the red and golden leaves of the trees as she cut through Central Park and arrived outside The Shop Around the Corner just as Casey pedaled up on her bicycle.
The store had been a source of contention between Olivia and her mother for years. After she finished school, Olivia wanted to become a cop or go to law school, but Serena had never imagined a world where her daughter wouldn’t take over the bookstore. In the years since the elder Benson passed and Olivia ran The Shop Around the Corner, she couldn’t imagine any other career for herself.
“Are we still doing children’s story hour today?” Casey asked as they turned the lights on and readied the store for customers.
“Is it Wednesday already?” Olivia asked. She sighed, dreamily. “Time flies. I should read Red Leaf, Yellow Leaf.”
She didn’t realize she was humming until Casey said, “Liv, is that Etta James?”
“What? Oh.” The melody of Sunday Kind of Love had come to her, unbidden. “Yeah. Sorry, I’ll keep it down.”
“I wasn’t complaining. I just think… did you and Kurt get back together?” Casey asked.
Olivia’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Why would you think that?”
Laughing, Casey reminded her that she had lived with Kurt for two years and the couple had talked about marriage. “So, it's not insane for me to think that. But maybe you're in love with someone new?”
“No, not in love. I have moved on though.”
“Moved on how?”
Olivia opened a box of new books to be shelved. As she stacked them on the counter, she quietly admitted, “I’m talking to someone. Emailing someone.”
“Like cybersex?” Casey asked in a scandalized whisper.
“No! Like… pen pals. Modern day pen pals.”
“What’s his name?”
“I don’t know,” Olivia told her, walking away with a pile of books to avoid the next set of questions. She didn’t like to play the I’m your boss card but if Casey poked around any further, she would have to. She had already said too much. NY152 was sacred to her, and she didn’t want other people’s opinions to sour her feelings about their connection.
Elliot stood in line at Java Jake’s to get coffee for himself and Ayanna. He lingered outside the bakery to smell the delicious pastries. He listened to the leaves crunching under his shoes as he walked through the park. After one more block he could see the building that would soon be the sixth Stabler Books in the five boroughs.
“You brought the good stuff,” Ayanna said as she met Elliot at the doors.
She had been an honorary Stabler for years, and the success of the stores wouldn't have been possible without her hard work and friendship. A cup of good coffee was the least he could do. “I did. So, give me some good news, Bell.”
Ayanna walked with him across the tarp protecting the floors. “I don’t have any. The company that manufactured the wallpaper we used in the other locations went out of business.”
Elliot groaned. “That’s… fixable,” he said, trying to be optimistic. “Did we get the estimate from the plumber?” The silence that followed the question told him everything he needed to know. He could feel his pulse climbing and took a slow, steadying breath. “It’s okay,” he said, more for himself than her. “I’ll give my guy a call.”
“Ready for the worst news?”
“There’s worse news?”
Ayanna glanced toward the second floor, to the area Elliot was using as his office space during the construction. “Your mother is here.”
Elliot gave her a tight smile and walked ahead of her to the winding staircase. It didn’t have any railing, yet, and the elevator was out of operation. “Mama,” he said, approaching the opaque tarp that served as a makeshift wall, “I told you not to come up here without the railing.” He walked through the space where two pieces of the tarp met and saw Bernie looking out the window.
She turned around. “I think you’re purposely delaying so I can’t come up here. How hard is it to put up a rail?”
He shrugged and crossed the floor to kiss her cheek.
“You ever been in The Shop Around the Corner?” she asked.
"No, never.”
“Linda said it’s very cute and well-loved.”
“Okay,” he said, huffing a laugh. “You think it’s going to be stiff competition?”
Bernie shrugged. “Linda said it’s very cozy and they do a lot for the neighborhood.”
“Well, it sounds like Linda has already picked a favorite. I saw their revenue report. They have good numbers for such a small place, but I don't think we need to actively shut them down. Once we open it'll be no contest. They do have a small rare books collection that I'd like to buy when they go out of business but overall, I’m not worried, mama.”
“I think you should be.”
Elliot chuckled. “I’ll scope it out when I pick the twins up, okay?”
The Shop Around the Corner was considered a neighborhood gem. Since the new Stabler Books went into construction down the street, half the shop’s customers were concerned about its survival and the other half let it slip in front of Olivia how excited they were for the grand, two-story book seller to open its doors.
In an effort to retain the neighbors’ allegiance, Olivia established the children’s reading hour every Wednesday afternoon. Casey thought up Free Friday where they filled a banker’s box with a variety of new and used books, and every customer could pick one until supplies ran out. The shop implemented a loyalty program; everyone with a membership received a ten percent discount and ten punches on their card equaled a free book. Olivia was explaining the program to a woman when the bells above the door chimed, and a handsome man entered with two children.
Elliot’s eyes roamed the so-called competition. The phrase that came to mind was organized chaos. The wall-to-wall shelves were overflowing with books, but it didn’t look sloppy. He noticed that within the children’s section the merchandise was separated into categories like Heroes and Heroines, which included a Superman picture book and a biography of Rosa Parks. There was no particular color scheme, and the square footage would never allow The Shop Around the Corner to have a bigger selection than Stabler Books.
“What’s going on over there?” Lizzie asked, pointing to where eight children sat in a semi-circle facing an empty chair.
“Story hour,” Olivia helpfully supplied from where she stood at the register. She walked out holding Red Leaf, Yellow Leaf.
“Dad, can we go over there?” Dickie asked.
Elliot nodded and took the kids’ backpacks from them. “You do this every day?” he asked.
“Every Wednesday. Grown-ups are welcome, too,” Olivia told him.
The tone of her voice made him blush and he found a place to stand where he could see the twins and the lovely woman with deep brown eyes.
She welcomed the children and adults, some browsing the shelves and some planning to listen along with the kids. “It was born long before I was,” Olivia read. “The wind blew seeds from the big maple trees in the woods. They twirled and whirled as they fell to the ground.”
Elliot thought the twins were too old for the book, but he was pleased any time they expressed enthusiasm for reading or being read to. Their mother had read to them every night before bed, and he had been terrible about continuing the tradition in Kathy’s absence. She used to tell Elliot that he’d gotten so caught up in selling books that he forgot to read any of them. She hadn’t been wrong.
The children all clapped as Olivia read the last page of the book. She was clearly well liked by her customers, and most of them seemed to know her as more than a stranger in a store.
Elliot didn’t want to leave without making a purchase. Maureen had a birthday coming up, so he chose a hard cover edition of her favorite book, The Secret Garden, and waited in line. He noticed a display near the register that was like a mini old fashioned general store in itself, with an assortment of candy, pens and novelty notebooks, lip gloss, small animal figurines, bouncy balls, Slinkys, and Groucho glasses with the large nose and fuzzy eyebrows.
It was his turn to pay, and he asked Olivia, “Are you the manager?”
“Owner,” she clarified.
He winced.
“Olivia Benson,” she told him.
“Eli,” he fibbed, hoping his palm wasn’t too clammy as he shook her offered hand.
“I’ve been seeing that look on a lot of people’s faces, Eli.”
“What look?” he asked.
Olivia put his purchase in a bag. “A little sympathy and a lot of oh, crap, sucks to be you. Everyone knows Stabler Books is opening down the street. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried, but I think we’re two very different stores. We ha-”
Lizzie sneezed and Elliot patted his pockets for a tissue.
“Here,” Olivia said, removing a handkerchief from the back pocket of her jeans.
“What’s this?” the girl asked, afraid to wipe her nose on such a nicely folded cloth with flowers embroidered into the material.
Olivia laughed softly. “It’s a handkerchief. It’s like a Kleenex you never throw away. My mom had it made for me.” She still thought it was an odd gift for a ten-year-old girl, but she’d always thought it was her mother’s way of saying see, I listen to you, I know you. “She had peonies embroidered on it because those are my favorite flowers.”
Casey saved the day with an actual tissue and Olivia took her memento back, pressing it into her pocket.
“I hope you bring the kids back for the next story hour,” Olivia said. “We can use all the support we can get. Do you-”
“Thanks,” he said, taking the bag from her. He called for the twins and made a hasty exit before the guilt gnawing at his chest registered on his face. Olivia was beautiful and sweet and she gave his daughter her prized handkerchief with her favorite flower – peonies, he’d remember – and he was about to ruin her life.
Olivia was mildly offended by the man’s sudden disinterest in conversing with her, but she shrugged it off to help the next customer in line.
The only message on the answering machine was from Kurt, reminding Olivia about a party The Ledger was hosting for business owners. “Don’t let what happened between us keep you from going,” he said. She had no intention of letting their breakup interfere with her attendance. She found it smug of him to think otherwise.
Olivia needed to put him and the stress of Stabler Books out of her mind, so she disrupted her evening routine by pouring a glass of wine and sitting down at her desk before she’d even changed into her pajamas. She sipped the merlot while the modem connected, and when the robotic voice told her, “You’ve got mail,” Olivia felt calmer than she had all day.
From: NY152
To: Shopgirl
Subject: Re: Hi Friend
For the record, I don’t think you have anything to hide. I understand the need to ‘take a break’ from yourself. I’m grateful I have that opportunity here, with you. I look forward to your messages, Shopgirl. I read them with my first cup of coffee, and then I think about your words while I stop to buy a cup of coffee on my way to work (can’t get enough of the stuff). If you ever change your mind about anonymity, I’m open to being, well, more open. But this is perfect, too.
You never told me if you finally watched North by Northwest?
“Bye,” Elliot called out as Kathleen’s bus pulled up across the street. He closed the door, counted to ten, and made his way to the kitchen. He was eager to check his email, and he almost felt guilty for thinking about Olivia Benson while he read Shopgirl’s message.
From: Shopgirl
To: NY152
Subject: Coffee and Films
There is no such thing as too much coffee. Or wine. Or Hitchcock, for that matter. I did watch the movie. It didn’t surpass Rear Window as my favorite, but I no longer feel like a fraud. You were right – it’s a thrill to see so many familiar locations.
I admit that taking away the anonymity gives me a stomachache, but never say never. Now that I know you read my messages in the morning, I’ll sign off by saying this – Good morning and have a wonderful day.
P.S. I read your messages before I go to bed.
Olivia left Casey to man the shop so she could go home and get ready for The Ledger’s party. She never knew how to dress for such things, and she didn’t want to look too good; knowing Kurt Moss, he would think it was a ploy to reunite with him. She settled on a simple, black cocktail dress and a pair of close-toed pumps.
The event was held in the banquet room of an Italian restaurant and the first thing Olivia did was read the list of custom cocktails. She ordered a blood orange Aperol Spritz, sipping the drink as she scoured the room for familiar faces. Her eyes landed on a tall, attractive man who was studying a table full of hors d'oeuvres, and she squinted to verify that he was indeed the man who had visited the shop that afternoon.
Olivia weaved through the crowd to stand on the opposite side of the table from him. “Eli, right?” she asked.
He looked at her, his eyebrows quirked up. “Oh. It’s you.”
“And it’s you,” she said. In her peripheral vision she saw Kurt approaching and cursed his timing.
“Olivia,” he said, resting his hand between her shoulder blades. “Glad to see you made it.” His eyes flicked to Elliot. “This is not awkward,” he added with a laugh.
She looked at him quizzically. “Why would it be awkward?”
“This is Elliot Stabler. Of Stabler Books,” Kurt explained, gesturing toward the man who had been in her store that afternoon.
Eli. Elliot. Olivia glared at him. “So, that’s what that was,” she remarked. “Reconnaissance. Were those even your children or did you borrow someone’s kids for your little spy session?”
Kurt looked from her to Elliot, taking a step away. “You two have met?”
“No, I met Eli. When this man came into my store to, I don’t know, scope out the competition.”
Elliot scoffed. “Competition?”
Olivia’s eyes narrowed and she set her glass on the table so both of her hands were free to clench into fists.
“Your little store is not our competition,” he told her. “It wasn't even on my radar when we were scouting locations. I have no reason to spy. We don’t need any help boosting our sales.”
“If you weren’t spying why were you so… deceptive? You lied about your name.”
“People call me Eli,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “Once I introduced myself, which in turned required you to introduce yourself, you couldn’t wait to bolt.”
“I have a feeling no matter what I say you’ll go on believing I had evil intentions,” Elliot told her. “Enjoy your evening.” He turned away, disappearing into the crowd.
The two of them ended up on the same side of the hors d'oeuvres table thirty minutes later. She watched Elliot drag a small, crisp piece of toast through a dip and the caviar lining the dish.
“You’re not supposed to eat the caviar,” Olivia admonished him.
Elliot looked at her sideways for a moment before taking another piece of toast and scooping up more caviar.
“It’s a garnish!” she groaned. “See how there’s so little of it?”
He used a third piece of toast to sweep along the edge of the serving platter, collecting as much caviar as he could. It was a petulant move, something Dickie would do. He might as well have stuck his tongue out at her, but the woman was infuriating. She was infuriatingly proper and beautiful. She was annoying and alluring. It was troubling how compelled Elliot was to get under her skin. “Is there anything else on this table I’m not supposed to eat?” he asked.
She blew a stream of air through her pursed lips, shaking her head as she turned away from him.
Elliot grinned and watched her go.
The only thing Olivia wanted to do when she got home was check her email. She sat down and removed her shoes, flexing her aching toes, as the modem squawked. She heard, “You’ve got mail,” and the irritation coiled tightly in her neck and shoulders dissipated some.
From: NY152
To: Shopgirl
Subject: Re: Coffee and Films
I disagree that Rear Window is superior, but it does rank high. Are there any non-Hitchcock movies you pretend to have seen because you feel left out if you admit you haven’t? For me it’s Citizen Kane. I tried once and couldn’t get past the first ten minutes. What about guilty pleasure movies? Do not ever repeat this but I like Dirty Dancing.
Goodnight, Shopgirl. Sweet dreams.
Olivia exhaled slowly. She re-read the last sentence over and over again until she wasn’t thinking about Elliot Stabler at all.
From: Shopgirl
To: NY152
Subject: Re: Re: Coffee and Films
I have seen Citizen Kane and between the two of us you aren’t missing much. I pretend I’ve seen all of The Godfather movies. I’ve heard so much about them that I forget I haven’t sat down and watched all of them all the way through. I think it’s adorable that you like Dirty Dancing. I would have to say my guilty pleasure movie is Cocktail. Do you make your kids watch the movies you liked back in the day?
I need to tell you this. I had a nice day and then a less nice evening, and coming home to your message made me forget all about the second half. Thank you for helping me end the night on a good note.
From: NY152
To: Shopgirl
Subject: Good Days
My kids liked Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. That’s about it. Slept through anything else I’ve tried to show them. My middle daughter is going to be a film buff, I can tell. She has good taste.
I saw Halloween decorations up around the city today. It doesn’t seem possible that we’re already here again. My wife loved Halloween, so I feel obligated to make a big deal with the kids. How did your mother feel about it? What’s your favorite holiday?
Sorry to hear you had a less than stellar evening, but I’m glad to have helped turn it around. I’ve been having more good days than bad recently, and I think it has a lot to do with you.
Olivia tried not to ruminate on Elliot Stabler and his family’s chain of stores offering a thirty-five percent discount on new releases. It was a challenge, though, because the man she’d met in her shop had been endearing in their brief encounter. Until he rushed out, she had been immersed in his blue eyes and enchanted by his children.
As much as Olivia enjoyed her correspondence with NY152, she didn’t want her greatest relationship to take place solely through her laptop’s screen. She worried that meeting him in person would burst the bubble, but it wasn't like she had much luck with the men she met face to face.
The kids had the day off school and Dickie unceremoniously woke his father at six o’clock to ask if they could go back to the neat store with the pretty lady. “I was going to take you to see my store today, bud,” Elliot told him.
Dickie was unimpressed.
“We’ll see, okay?” Elliot said.
His bare feet padded into the kitchen. He was up, and he figured he might as well start the day. The smell of the coffee brewing perked him up and by the time he heard, “You’ve got mail,” he was fully awake.
From: Shopgirl
To: NY152
Subject: Re: Good Days
My mother wasn’t much of a holiday person. I’ve never met a holiday I don’t like, but Christmas is my favorite.
I apologize for not having a good segue into this, but… I met a man recently and very quickly realized he was not who I thought he was. I feel guilty because for a brief moment I was excited about the possibility of talking to a man where I could hold his hand and hear his voice. We live in such a big, thriving city, NY152, but there are times I feel so incredibly alone. You have become so important to me, and I don’t want to lose that, but (I’d like to pause here to tell you that I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve deleted this paragraph) there are times I wonder if anonymity is the best way to go.
The trees lining Olivia’s street had spilled brown and golden hued leaves on the sidewalks, and more leaves fell past her window as she watched the sun rise above the city. She hadn’t been able to sleep and decided to check her email off schedule. The brevity of NY152’s message made her heart thrum faster, concerned that short meant abrupt and bad. After she read it, Olivia couldn’t remember how to breathe or speak or type, and she simply stared at the brief note.
From: NY152
To: Shopgirl
Subject: ???
I understand what you’re saying, Shopgirl. And I keep thinking…
Should we meet?
Chapter 2
Summary:
The holiday season pits Stabler Books against The Shop Around the Corner, and a brief triumph gives Olivia the confidence to want to meet her pen pal in person.
Chapter Text
From: Shopgirl
To: NY152
Subject: Re: ???
Not going to lie – your question made me forget how to breathe. But I’m not saying no. I’m only saying that with the holiday season coming up, it may not be the best time? And if we can wait… I can make being brave my New Year’s Resolution.
Elliot read the message as the phone rang and Maureen shouted from the second floor, “Dad! It’s Ayanna!” He exhaled a sigh of relief; he would have regretted piling the stress of meeting Shopgirl onto the holidays and the rush to open Stabler Books’ newest location before Black Friday. He’d been flattered by her declaration and gotten carried away.
He stood from the table and picked up the phone where it hung from the wall. “Hi,” he said, and both he and Ayanna waited to hear the click of Maureen hanging up. “Please tell me my guy came through.”
“We have working bathrooms,” she told him, and Elliot could hear Ayanna’s celebratory dance that accompanied the good news.
“That’s what I needed to hear this morning.”
“You coming in soon?” she asked.
Elliot glanced at his laptop open on the table. “I have a couple things to do after I get the kids out the door.”
The Halloween decorations had been taken down and replaced with generic pumpkins and gourds, paper leaves cascading down the windows, and baskets of plastic apples. It seemed like a waste of time to Casey because the fall decorations only had their time in the spotlight for a week or two before it was, according to the retail industry, the Christmas season. For that reason she carefully dusted the pumpkins and gourds and rearranged the baskets to give them more prominence.
Olivia smiled at her friend’s careful treatment of the décor and crossed the floor to flip the sign on the door to open. She gasped, startled to see a familiar face peering in through the glass. She unlocked the door, opening it as she said, “John Munch! How long have you been standing there?”
“Only a second,” he said, kissing her cheek as he walked in from the crisp cold of a November morning.
John was retired NYPD and volunteered his time during the busy holiday season to help Olivia manage the books. “I wasn’t expecting you,” Olivia told him.
“I’m not here to work. I’m here with a message from the future.”
Olivia tilted her head, her forehead wrinkled in amused confusion.
“The message,” John said, “is that you need to go after Stabler Books aggressively to stay afloat. Have you been by there lately?”
“I try not to go that way,” she told him.
“Well, they’re moving right along. They’re entrance is on Broadway, so guess what they put on the 84th Street side of the building?”
Olivia shrugged. “What?”
“It says ‘enter around the corner.’ Now, those scions of American consumerism will try to tell you that any resemblance to your store’s name is coincidental. But we know better.”
She looked at him a long while, mulling over the information. Olivia’s frustration gained traction with every passing second. “I don’t know what more I can do,” she confessed.
“I have an idea, but you won’t like it,” John told her.
Casey appeared from behind a display of new releases and said, “Let’s hear it, Munch.”
“I think you should ask Kurt to write something in support of your store. A story pitting the little guy against American greed would be right up his alley.”
Olivia groaned. “I don’t… no. I’m not going to do that. I’m going to trust that our customers are loyal and will not be lured away by discounted prices and fancy coffee.”
The month of November was a whirlwind for Elliot. The store opened the week before Thanksgiving. The line at the door on opening day circled the block, and by day four Bernie gleefully announced on a call with shareholders that the new location had surpassed it’s week one estimated earnings.
Elliot was spending most of his time there, supporting Ayanna and working with the marketing team. He apologized to Shopgirl for being neglectful, but she agreed a lull in their conversation only meant it was, in fact, the busiest time of year.
He stood on the second floor, at the top of the winding staircase, and wondered if Shopgirl had been in the store. He didn’t know her name, but Elliot knew she lived in the neighborhood or at least frequented the Upper West Side. It wasn’t ridiculous to think she had stopped in. She could be waiting in line, he thought, or sitting in the café.
Olivia was behind schedule decorating for the holiday season. It was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving and she was untangling strings of white lights and hanging ornaments on a fake Fraser fir. She could see throngs of people passing on the sidewalk, but the door to the shop hadn’t opened in two hours.
She opened it herself, standing in the frame as she looked out at the bustling crowd. Olivia’s eyes were drawn to the shopping bags people carried, and it seemed that every other one was from Stabler Books. She shivered and stepped back into the warmth, sealing the door shut.
John was in the office crunching numbers and Olivia reluctantly peered in to ask, “How are we doing?” His heavy sigh was not a good indication.
“We’ve made eighteen hundred less than at this time last year,” he told her.
Olivia closed her eyes and pictured what eighteen hundred dollars in books looked like, and then she compared that to the number of Stabler Books shopping bags she had seen in a matter of only seconds.
“Remember what I said about going after them aggressively?” he asked.
She tucked her bottom lip under her teeth. Olivia tipped her head against the doorframe, lightly banging against the wood. “I’ll think about it.”
Bernie called a meeting at the Stabler corporate headquarters in Midtown, and Elliot was surprised to find she’d redecorated her office. The new sofa was covered in fur that looked like it belonged on an Old English Sheepdog. “It’s Italian,” she explained when she caught him appraising it with a mixture of confusion and disgust.
Elliot hesitated before sitting down, but the chairs were made of the same material. “What’d you need to talk about?” he asked.
“Money, of course,” Bernie said with a laugh.
“We’re doing great. You said it yourself.”
She shrugged as she sipped her tea from a mug that belonged to a Tiffany & Co. set she’d had for as long as Elliot could remember. “We are doing great, but we could be doing fantastic.”
He huffed a laugh. “Okay. We could do a promotion. Maybe-”
“We’re getting less business at other locations.”
Elliot nodded. He draped his arm across the back of the sofa. “We talked about that happening.”
“I think we need to evaluate where we can cut employees at the other locations.”
“And move them to the Upper West Side?” he asked.
Bernie shook her head. “No, we’re well staffed there.”
“You want to look into cutting jobs now?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re too soft for this world, Elliot. Now, will you ask Don to crunch some numbers? I’m thinking the Harlem store. It’s our smallest location. We’ve probably been overstaffed this whole time.”
Elliot stood up and started brushing fine strands of white fur from his clothes. He looked out the window at the city – the abundance of red and green as it prepared for the holiday season, and the throngs of people spending their hard-earned money to cook a feast for their family. “I’ll call him up now,” he said.
He’d gotten so caught up in the stress and the thrill of opening a new location that he’d been out of the money-making side of the business for a while. Elliot had almost forgotten how ruthless one had to be to find success in the world of retail shopping.
The Zabar’s on Broadway was predictably crowded with last-minute shoppers like Olivia. She navigated her cart around the narrow aisles and the other harried customers. She needed breadcrumbs, but as she turned down the aisle toward them, she saw Elliot Stabler. She backed up, knocking into someone and mouthing an apology.
A few minutes later Elliot was browsing the bakery’s offerings when he saw Olivia reflected in the glass case. He froze, not turning around until he was certain she’d walked away.
The two of them engaged in a carefully but spontaneously choreographed dance throughout the store, having to bend and spin to avoid one another. Olivia was relieved when she took her place in the checkout line without having ever come face to face with him, and she handed the cashier her credit card with a broad smile on her face.
“This line is cash only,” the woman snapped, pointing to the sign clearly posted above the register.
Olivia’s smile drooped. “Damn it. I’m sorry.”
“You have to go to another line.”
“What? You really can’t just…”
The man in line behind Olivia groaned and loudly proclaimed, “She doesn’t have cash!” A chorus of groans followed, and some people moved to another line rather than wait out the problem.
Elliot, three lines away, heard the commotion. He carried his two bags with him and sidled up next to Olivia. “You don’t have any money?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “I have money.”
“I know it’s a struggle for you right now, and if you need help, I’m happy to spare some change.”
“I have money,” Olivia repeated. “I just don’t have cash on me.”
Elliot looked at the cashier’s nametag. He smiled warmly and said, “Rose – may I call you Rose?”
The young woman blushed and nodded.
“That’s a beautiful name. Rose, I see you do have a credit card machine here,” he said, tapping the square at the edge of the checkout lane. “I’m Elliot, and this is my friend Olivia, and in the spirit of the holiday, I would be grateful to you if you could swipe her card this one time.”
The man behind Olivia said, “Well, I’m Henry, and I want to hurry the hell up and get out of here!”
Elliot ignored him and leaned closer, locking his eyes on Rose’s. “Please, Rose? For me?”
She grinned and giggled and took the plastic square from Olivia, swiping it through the machine.
“Thank you, Rose,” Elliot said. “Happy Thanksgiving to you. And you, too, Henry,” he said to the irritated man. He looked at Olivia expectantly.
“You’re waiting for me to thank you,” she told him, putting her card back into her wallet and quickly gathering the bags into her cart. “But I don’t feel particularly indebted to you, Mr. Stabler.” She pushed through the crowd, and he followed her.
“And why is that?”
Olivia removed her bags from the cart and let the doors slide open in front of her. She stepped outside, the wind blowing her hair in front of her face. “Enter around the corner?”
“What?”
“Oh, come on. You know what I’m talking about. At your store. The sign on 84th. ‘Enter around the corner.’ It’s a clear dig at my shop and-”
Elliot laughed. “It’s telling people to enter around the corner. It has nothing to do with you or your little shop.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t begrudge you doing your job, Mr. Stabler. But when you actively work to undermine my business and… and… it’s unkind.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
She scoffed, turning away and then back toward him, her lips parted. She could taste the words on her tongue. She could feel them forming on her lips. But Olivia was incapable of speaking the exact words she wanted to. “Happy Thanksgiving,” she barked, her tone derisive, and left him standing in front of the store.
From: NY152
To: Shopgirl
Subject: Tis the Season
I’m a bit off my routine and writing to you at night, by lamplight. Do you ever feel like you’ve become the worst version of yourself? Like a Pandora’s box of all the most hateful parts of you – the lack of integrity, the greed, tossing out your own convictions to appease someone else – has sprung open? You say whatever comes to mind, no matter how mean it is? How hurtful.
I don’t know, Shopgirl… this is a tough time of year for people like us, and many others for many reasons, and I lost sight of that today. I know I have a lot to be grateful for, especially you, so I’ll end this note by saying Happy Thanksgiving and thank you for your friendship.
Elliot hit send and noticed a few minutes later that Shopgirl was online. Their paths never crossed online, and he nervously clicked on her screenname to send an instant message.
NY152 : I never see you on here.
Shopgirl : I was just reading your message. What are you doing online now?
NY152 : Strange day. What are you up to?
Shopgirl : I came online looking for advice.
NY152 : About… love?
Shopgirl : No… business.
NY152 : Good. I’m something of a businessman. Maybe I can help?
Shopgirl : See, I have the opposite problem you do. I can never find the right words in the moment. I need to be mean right now and I don’t seem to be able to do it. I’m worried about my job. I need to come up with a plan to boost sales.
NY152 : Ah, you need to go to the mattresses.
Shopgirl : Huh?
NY152 : Oh, right, you only pretend to have seen The Godfather. It’s from the movie. It means ‘go to war.’ I know you pride yourself on being peaceful, but this is when you fight. It’s not personal. It’s business.
Shopgirl : So that’s the only option? Being mean? Aggressive?
NY152 : To the mattresses. You have to be ruthless.
Shopgirl : I know what I have to do then.
NY152 : Well that was easy. Anything else you need help with?
Olivia said goodnight to NY152 and closed the chat window. “To the mattresses,” she said out loud, staring at the phone. She cringed as she picked it up and dialed Kurt’s number. He answered after the first thing and she choked out the words, “I need your help.”
The trees lining Broadway at 75th sparkled with tiny white lights. A wreath hung above every window of The Astor. Olivia was admiring the festive décor when she saw Elliot leaving the Starbucks across the street. She turned quickly, bending down as if she’d dropped something, to avoid being seen.
The next day Elliot went into the Duane Reade on Columbus to pick up Dickie’s ear drops when he saw Olivia in line at the pharmacy. She turned around and he quickly stepped sideways to hide behind a display of reading glasses.
That same afternoon, Olivia made the impromptu decision to pick up Woo Hop. She was seated at a table when Elliot walked in to pick up an order. She had never looked at the menu – she’d been ordering the same dish for fifteen years – but she picked on up and held it open to shield her face.
He had already seen her but pretended not to, and he pretended not to see her over the course of the next week when Olivia seemed to be everywhere he went. She used the same dry cleaner and they both shopped at Columbus Circle on a Wednesday evening.
Olivia was unpacking her purchases in her bedroom when she heard, “You’ve got mail.” She hurried to where her laptop was on the bedside table and read the message from NY152.
From: NY152
To: Shopgirl
Subject: Gone to war?
I wanted to see if my business advice helped any?
What kind of plans do you have for the holiday?
She saw that he was online, too, and sent an instant message.
Shopgirl : Hi… to answer your first question, that remains to be seen.
NY152 : Oh?
Shopgirl : Something is in the works. Ask me again in a few days.
NY152 : I will. What about my second question?
Shopgirl : Christmas will be quiet this year. It usually is, though. The only family I have is a few close friends. That sounds terribly despondent but it’s not.
NY152 : I think it sounds lovely. It’s a tough time of year for most of us, right?
Shopgirl : Right. I remember you said your mother wants to get back to big Christmas celebrations. Are you up for it?
NY152 : More than I was last year.
Shopgirl : I always wanted to know what it felt like to have a huge family and gather everyone together around a big, beautiful tree. And you have probably always wanted to know what it would be like to sleep in on Christmas morning?
NY152 : Haha… yes. We could trade place. Or better yet, spend time together? I know we said we’d wait until after the holidays, but if you change your mind I won’t complain.
“I got it!” Casey announced as she entered the shop, letting in a rush of air spiked with the chill of a snowy morning. She waved a copy of that day’s Ledger and repeated, “I got it! It’s here.”
Olivia and Munch rushed out from the office. “Lemme see,” Olivia said, grabbing for the newspaper.
It was open to the page with Kurt Moss’ masthead and the article he wrote highlighting The Shop Around the Corner’s history and uniqueness in comparison to the uninventive Stabler Books with a carbon copy in every borough. He challenged the public to revolt against the corporate cash cow and support a staple of the community.
“This is good,” Olivia declared, and before she had even reached the last sentence, the phone rang.
“It’s channel two news,” Casey told her, covering the receiver with her hand. “They want to do a story on you and the shop!”
That evening Elliot and Ayanna were hunkered down in her office at the newest Stabler Books, calculating earnings and planning for the new year. The television was turned to the local news, and Ayanna hopped up from her seat to turn the volume up.
“El, look, they’re talking about us,” she said.
He set his sandwich down and turned in his chair. The news camera had captured the exterior of Stabler Books earlier that day, but his smile drooped when it cut to The Shop Around the Corner. “What the hell,” he remarked as Olivia Benson appeared on the screen, a microphone inches from her face.
“What’s she talking about? An article in The Ledger?”
“I don’t know,” he said, “but we need to get our hands on that paper.”
Ayanna looked out the window. “Elliot.”
“What?” he snapped, trying to listen to the garbage Olivia spouted about David and Goliath.
“There are a bunch of people outside the store, and I don’t think they’re here to shop.”
Elliot moved to stand beside her. The crowd on the sidewalk held signs and he could hear the din of their chants, and they weren’t praising Stabler Books by any means. “That bit-”
Ayanna glared at him.
“That woman has no idea what she just set in motion.”
Over the course of two days The Shop Around the Corner was at capacity every hour of the day, but after closing Munch complained people weren’t buying anything. “They’re just lookie-loos,” he griped. “Sales haven’t increased, Liv.”
“It’s only been a couple days,” she said.
“Well, if a miracle doesn’t happen, I don’t know how we survive the holidays.”
Someone appeared at the door and Olivia looked through the glass. “It’s Alex,” she said, crossing the room to unlock and open the door.
Alexandra Cabot was the best-selling author of a series of mystery novels with a female attorney as the central character, and for ten years she had been signing copies of her books on the day of their release at The Shop Around the Corner. “Oh, good, you’re still here,” she remarked.
“We just closed.”
“No, I mean still here as in still standing. I was worried with the Stabler Books, and then I saw you on the news.”
Casey stepped forward and asked, “Is your new book still coming out on the eighteenth?”
“It is,” Alex confirmed.
“And we can count on you to be here that day?” Olivia asked.
Alex said, “I’ll have my agent call you.”
From: Shopgirl
To: NY152
Subject: Celebrate?
Your advice is starting to pay off. I went to war and won at least one battle. I’d like to thank you with a drink, if you’re still interested in meeting?
Elliot had enthusiastically responded in the affirmative, and Olivia’s next message said she would be at Le Poète with a book and a flower on the table.
“You nervous, Stabler?” Ayanna asked as they walked along Columbus. She already knew the answer, because he had changed his tie three times and a cloud of Emporio Armani’s cedarwood-based cologne surrounded him.
“Not really. I feel like we already know each other,” he said. “But, uh…”
“What?” she pressed as they came upon the restaurant.
Elliot rocked on his heels and drove his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Can you go take a look first?”
“You want to make sure she’s as attractive as you have-”
“No, I just… I know she’ll be beautiful. I want to be prepared.”
Ayanna gave a little laugh at her friend’s expense and walked up to the door. She peered in, looking for a book and a flower on one of the small tables for two. She found the book and her gaze landed on Olivia Benson. “Oh. She’s beautiful alright. But if you don’t like Olivia Benson, I can tell you, you will not like this woman.”
“Why not?”
“Because your mystery woman is Olivia Benson.”
He clucked his tongue against the roof his mouth. “Now is not the time for pranks.”
“This isn’t a prank, my friend,” she said, stepping aside to give him room to approach and look through the glass window.
Elliot’s breath snagged in his throat. The woman seated at a table with a book and a rose was stunning. He’d never denied finding Olivia Benson physically attractive, but they deplored one another. His mind couldn’t compute how Olivia could bring out the worst in him while Shopgirl made him want to be a better man. “I can’t do this,” he whispered, bolting away from the door, and pressing against the exterior of the building.
“You can’t just leave, Elliot.”
“I can’t… this doesn’t make any sense.”
“You’re just going to make her wait there all night? Don’t do that, Elliot. No matter how much you dislike that woman, don’t be that guy.”
Olivia sipped a glass of red wine while she waited for NY152. She tried not to check the time every five seconds, but the minutes were ticking by slowly and painfully. One of the servers kept trying to take away the second wine glass from the table and another wanted to steal the chair that was meant for her date. She resituated the book on the table, opening it and then closing it. She draped the single pink peony on the table of the hard cover and then delicately placed it between the worn pages.
She was staring at the door when it opened, and Elliot Stabler walked in. Olivia muttered, “Shit,” under her breath and grabbed the buck, opening it front of her. She bent her head to pretend to read, propping one elbow on the table and holding her head in her hand to shield herself from his view.
It didn’t work, though, and Elliot approached her table. “Olivia Benson,” he said. “This is a coincidence. Mind if I sit down?”
“I do mind. I’m expecting someone.”
He bent forward to read the title of the book. “Pride and Prejudice.” He laughed. “Let me guess, you read that at least once a year? And even though you’ve read it countless times, you always hold your breath waiting for that cocky grump Mr. Darcy to finally realize he’s in love with… what’s her name.”
“Elizabeth Bennet,” she supplied, offended at his lack of knowledge.
Elliot helped himself to the empty chair and folded his hands on the table. “Believe it or not I have read it.”
“That’s surprising.”
“Well, if you really knew me you’d be surprised by a lot of things, Olivia.”
“I doubt that. I’m certain instead of a heart I’d find a cash register and instead of a brain a bottom line.” She bit her lip, shocked by the words that she’d spoken to his face, and somewhat proud.
Elliot picked up the flower. “Is this a peony?”
“Put it down,” she scolded. He twirled the stem and she said, “The petals are delicate! Please leave. I’m expecting someone and I don’t want you to scare him away.”
He sighed and stood up, but all he did was walk to the chair directly behind Olivia and sit down.
She rolled her eyes and scooted closer to the table. She removed a compact from her purse and her handkerchief to blot her lipstick. Elliot’s image appeared in the small mirror as he twisted in his seat to look at her.
“You know what that hanky reminds me of? The first day I met you.”
“The first day you lied to me,” Olivia corrected him.
“I didn’t lie.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Eli. You said your name was Eli. No one has ever called you Eli a day in your life,” Olivia huffed.
He turned sideways in his seat as she looked away. Elliot stood and moved back to the chair across from Olivia. “Fine. I lied. But that was because I could tell if I told you who I was you were going to have a fit in front of my kids.”
“A fit? You don’t know me at all, Elliot Stabler.” Her eyes were drawn to the door as it opened.
Elliot looked over his shoulder at a man wearing a cape and top hat. He faced Olivia and said, “Is that your date?”
“No.”
“Well, who is he? Where is he?”
“He’s late. And we’ve…”
Elliot narrowed his eyes. “Is this a blind date?”
“Something like that,” Olivia told him, squaring her shoulders and crossing her arms. “But I already know he’s kind and funny. He’s nothing like you, that’s for sure.”
“But he’s not here.”
Olivia winced. “I’m sure he has a good reason. There’s not a cruel bone in his body. And he knows me. He understands me. He would never take people’s jobs from them. He would never gloat about shutting down a small shop at-”
“You had to close?” Elliot asked.
“No. But… look, I’m going to say one more thing and then I want you to leave me alone. If I have to close my shop, people are always going to remember it. They’re going to talk about it for years. They can go into any Stabler Books and get the exact same thing, but they will never be able to get what my shop offers. They’ll remember my staff’s recommendations and story hour and the sidewalk sales and the tiny variety store at the register. Your store could be any store. It won’t make memories for people. Your legacy will be cheap prices and long lines and no one who works there will ever know a customer by name.”
Elliot pushed his chair back. He stood. “Have a good night, Ms. Benson.”
Olivia watched him leave and she drained what wine remained in her glass. She waited for another ten minutes before collecting her things and walking out. She tucked the book under her arm and tossed the peony into the nearest trashcan.
“Good morning, boss,” Ayanna said as Elliot leaned in the doorway of the office. “Please tell me you went into that restaurant and told Olivia the truth about who she’s been talking to.”
Elliot blew a stream of air between his lips and hung his head.
“Elliot Stabler!”
“I talked to her, but I didn’t tell her the truth. The only thing pleasant about that woman is the… the way her hair falls across her right eye and she has to tuck it behind her ear. And when she smiles, she gets this little dent right here on her nose.”
“Elliot,” she said, her voice softened. “You do like her.”
“I think she’s pretty. And I liked the person I was talking to online.”
“Olivia is the person you were talking to.”
He shrugged. “She can be anyone she wants behind a computer screen. Maybe all those emails were an act.”
Olivia was immediately faced with a curious Casey and Munch. She hadn’t even removed her coat when they asked how her evening had gone.
“He never showed,” she confessed.
Casey proceeded to guess that he’d been in an accident or was stuck in an elevator. Munch paged through that day’s Ledger and said, “Or he could be this guy.” He set the paper on the register, showing them the headline Cops Nab Rooftop Killer.
Olivia rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he has a good reason.”
“How long did you sit there alone?” Casey asked.
“Not long. Elliot Stabler came in.”
“Elliot Stabler? Gross. What are you going to do now?”
Olivia shrugged, but as soon as she got home from work that night she logged onto her email.
Snow fell slowly outside the kitchen window as Elliot sipped his first cup of coffee. He had been avoiding his laptop, but with the kids asleep and the neighborhood blanketed in fluffy white snow he decided to bite the bullet and check his email.
From: Shopgirl
To: NY152
Subject: Hi
I’ve been thinking about you. I went to meet you. I waited a long while. I wish I knew why you didn’t show up. I felt so foolish, and while I was waiting someone else showed up. He is a horrible man, and even though I told him exactly how I feel about him, it didn’t feel good. The entire evening was uncomfortable.
Anyway, I still want to talk to you. I want to give you a chance to tell me why you weren’t there, and I hope it’s a good reason. I hate the idea of losing this. Of losing you. The thing about communicating this way is that it’s easy to talk about nothing much. But the thing is, all of this nothing has meant more to me than so many somethings. So, if we don’t talk again, thank you for helping me through my grief and making me feel less alone for a while.
Elliot dragged a hand down his face. He closed the laptop and stood up to refill his coffee. He sat back down and opened the screen. He closed it. He left the kitchen but returned two minutes later and sat down.
He started typing, and every excuse he came up with was worse than the last. Everything was a lie, and a terrible one at that. He stretched his fingers and decided to be honest.
Olivia logged into her email at the store. There were no customers, and Munch had already crunched the numbers and they were far from good.
She was about to read an email from NY152 when she heard the door open and Casey shouted, “Olivia!”
“I’m right here,” she called out as she exited the office. “What’s wrong?”
Casey was out of breath and rosy cheeked. “I had to walk by Stabler Books. I saw a sign in the window. Alex Cabot is signing her new book there on the day it comes out.”
Olivia’s heart sank. “No one ever called. I was going to…”
“I’m sorry, Liv,” Casey said.
“It’s okay. There’s still time before Christmas. We might be surprised and…” Olivia couldn’t finish the optimistic thought.
She turned around and went back into the office, closing the door. Olivia sat down and looked at the message from NY152. She knew reading the email was a risk, that it could worsen her mood. But it could also help, and she was willing to take the chance.
From: NY152
To: Shopgirl
Subject: I’m Sorry
Dear friend, I can’t tell you what happened that night, but I’m begging you from the bottom of my heart to forgive me for not being there. I feel terrible that not only did I stand you up, but I put you in a position to be uncomfortable. I’m sure whatever you said to that horrible man was well deserved.
You were expecting to see someone you trusted and then an enemy walked through the door. That’s my fault. All I can offer you is this – I’ve gotten so carried away with work recently that I haven’t recognized myself. I didn’t want you to meet that version of me. Someday I’ll explain absolutely everything, but right now I am asking you to forgive me.
I’m still here.
Chapter 3
Summary:
Olivia has to close the shop, and Elliot ends up influencing her plans for the future. He's afraid to confess to being NY152 for fear of losing her altogether, and hopes the friendship they are forming will change her mind about him.
Notes:
Thanks for reading! This was a fun, lighthearted detour to take from some of the darker things I'm working on now. I hope you enjoyed this version of one of my favorite romantic comedies!
Chapter Text
From: Shopgirl
To: NY152
Subject: Bad News
Well, it pains me to say this, but your advice did not work in the long run. I had to close my shop. I know that’s a personal detail we said we weren’t going to share but screw it. I owned a shop and I had to close my shop and I’m sad about it. I’m devastated, really. It was the only place where I ever felt close to my mother and packing it up has been like dealing with her death all over again. I’m using quite a lot of the tactics we learned in grief support to survive this.
On the bright side, this means I can start something new. I have no idea what though. I better sign off and start thinking about it. Hope you had a wonderful holiday, NY152.
Elliot replied to the message and took a detour on his way to the work. He stood across the street from The Shop Around the Corner and saw the sign taped to the door offering fifty percent off all merchandise. He saw Olivia pass by the windows, and she turned her profile to him, removing books from the shelf. It pained him to see her distressed. He wondered if she would ever believe how sorry he was for the impact Stabler Books had on her business.
Probably not at all, he thought. Elliot decided he would have to show her how remorseful he was.
x
The bouquet was a mix of pink peonies, white roses, and lemon leaf. Elliot held it carefully as he stood outside Olivia’s building, waiting for her to answer him on the intercom. When she finally did, he was first greeted with a sneeze, followed by a nasal, “Who’s there?”
“Elliot Stabler.”
She sneezed again and blew her nose. “Go away. I’m sick.”
He bit back a laugh. “I can hear that. I won’t stay for long. I have something for you.”
“Is it my bookstore? Because that’s all I would want from you.”
He winced. “No, I’m sor-”
“Please, go away.”
A woman approached and he stepped aside to give her room. She used a key to unlock the door and Elliot followed her inside while Olivia continued to berate him through the intercom until she was interrupted by a knock at the door.
She pulled her robe closed and tightened the sash around her waist. She opened the door, scoffed, and promptly sneezed into her wrinkled tissue. “What are you doing? I told you to go away.”
Elliot leaned against the doorframe, keeping her from being able to slam the door in his face. “You weren’t lying. You are sick.”
She rolled her eyes, wiping her nose.
“These are for you,” he said, showing her the flowers. “May I come in and put them in water for you?”
Olivia lacked the energy to argue. She stepped aside. “Only because peonies are my favorite,” she told him. She pointed him to the correct cabinet, and he selected a vase with an elegant, textured gold surface. She sat on the sofa while he arranged the flowers, and when it seemed to be taking an awfully long time, she scolded him, “You better not be snooping, Stabler.”
He walked in with the vase in one hand and a mug of tea in the other. He placed the flowers on the coffee table and handed her the mug. “Hope you like honey.”
“I do. Thank you.”
“Mind if I have a seat?” Elliot asked.
“Proceed with caution,” she told him, plucking a fresh tissue from the nearest box. She had them placed conveniently around the apartment.
Elliot grinned as he lowered himself onto the opposite end of the sofa.
“Are you going to tell me why you showed up here with flowers?”
“I wanted to apologize for that night at the restaurant. And to say I’m sorry you had to close your shop. I was rude and I know the store meant a lot to you.”
Olivia took a careful sip of the hot tea. “I guess I should apologize for that night too.”
“Why?”
“I said you had a cash register for a heart.”
“I’d forgotten about that,” Elliot told her, clapping a hand to his chest, exaggerating how deeply it wounded him. “Did you ever get to meet your mystery man?”
Olivia set the mug on a coaster. She drew back into the corner of the sofa, folding her arms. “No. But he explained why he wasn’t there. We’ll meet one of these days.”
“Do you know what you’re going to do now?” he asked.
“Sleep. Get over this cold.”
Elliot pushed up from the sofa. “Is there anything you need? I could run to the store for you.”
She stared at him for a long stretch of stunned silence. “Um, n-no. Thank you though.” She started to get up and he reached out, gently pushing against her shoulder.
“I can see myself out, Olivia. Take care of yourself.”
She blamed the cold medicine for the rush of electric warmth that pulsed from where he’d touched her to her chest and through her belly.
x
The shelves were empty. The merchandise that hadn’t been sold was packed into boxes, stacked by the door to be donated. Olivia and Casey sat on the floor, each with their own paper cup of coffee from Java Jake’s. They toasted to The Shop Around the Corner and their uncertain futures.
“Will you go with me to Stabler Books?” Olivia asked.
Casey narrowed her eyes. “Why would you-”
“I want to see what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s a great store and I’ll feel better about all of this.”
Casey’s loyalty was to Olivia, and she protested for several minutes despite her own personal curiosity. “If that’s what you want to do, okay,” she relented.
x
“They have escalators,” Olivia noted as the doors to Stabler Books slid open. The interior was perfumed with coffee, pastries, paper, and leather. It was pleasant and she hated the way it made her want to curl up on one of their plush green armchairs with a designer latte, a bear claw, and one of the discounted new releases from their shelves.
The two of them walked around, pretending to dislike the displays of books that inspired movies and a collection of classic novels geared toward the teenaged reader. They rolled their eyes at the soft carpet beneath their feet and griped about the stunning artwork on the walls.
Olivia wandered toward the children’s section on the second floor. She sat down in one of the comically small chairs, remembering how much she loved to host story hour. Casey stood behind her, and unbeknownst to both of them, Elliot had come out of the office.
He watched from behind a display of comics as Olivia privately contemplated her surroundings. He thought he detected regret and sadness, but never anger. Elliot listened as a customer asked one of his Stabler Books employees a question.
“Where can I find An Elephant in the Garden?” the woman asked.
The employee stammered, shrugging, looking around for someone to intervene with the answer. “Do you know who wrote it?” the young man asked.
The woman shook her head.
“Michael Morpurgo,” Olivia responded.
Casey added, “That’s grade four to six. Do you have a young reader’s section?”
The employee shrugged.
Casey groaned. She approached the customer and said, “Come with me. I can find it for you.”
Olivia watched as her friend escorted the woman to a different area of the department, and she saw the delight on the customer’s face when Casey located the book. “You should get a job here,” Olivia told her when she returned.
“What?” Casey balked. “Never.”
“They could use you,” Olivia told her. “Clearly.”
Elliot nodded in agreement from where he hid.
Casey shook her head. “I couldn’t do that to you, Liv.”
“You wouldn’t be doing anything to me, Case. What happened happened. I have to move on. You have to move on. I want you to have a stable job. I think this place will be around for a long time. They don’t deserve you, but you could take this big, impersonal store and make it feel more like a neighborhood gem.”
Elliot saw Ayanna exit the office and he whispered her name, waving her closer.
“What?” she asked, amused by his demeanor.
He pointed to Casey. “See the redhead with Olivia Benson?”
“Yes?”
“I want you to get an application and ask her to fill it out. Now. Hurry.”
x
From: NY152
To: Shopgirl
Subject: Any news?
I know you have been busy deciding your next move. Any updates there? I’m sorry I can’t offer any tangible advice. All I know is that you are a dynamic person, Shopgirl, and you will find something. Or something will find you.
I’m looking forward to winter’s end. Spring really is like a fresh start. I have a feeling that is what it will be for you.
x
“Whoever said April is the cruelest month lied,” Olivia noted as she watched snow piling up on the street outside the café. “February is cold and relentless.”
The barista agreed as she placed Olivia’s latte on the counter. “Anything else?”
At the exact moment she pointed to a chocolate croissant in the bakery case, she heard Elliot Stabler ordering the same thing at the second register. They looked at one another and smiled.
“She can have it,” he said, at the same time Olivia said, “He can have it.”
“How about we share?” Elliot suggested. “My treat.”
Olivia found a table for two and he joined her, placing the croissant at the center. He let her cut it in half and thought it was adorable how she went to great pains to make it even.
“Have you met your online fella yet?” he asked.
“Fella?” she repeated with a laugh. “No, I haven’t. It’s been a little crazy though. I’m going to bring it up with him tonight.”
Elliot already couldn’t wait to get home and check his email. “I hired your friend Casey.”
“I know.”
“She was incredibly conflicted about taking the job.”
“I know. I gave her my blessing though.”
As the snow fell outside the window, giant flakes suspended in the air, they talked about where they had grown up. She came to understand he had a complicated relationship with his mother too, and much like her, books and the store had always been one way for them to bond. They chatted long after the croissant had dissipated into a few crumbs on the plate, until Elliot suddenly realized he would be late picking the children up from their half day of school.
Elliot scooted his chair back and stood. He noticed a dab of chocolate at the corner of her mouth. He pointed it out to Olivia and even though she wiped it away with her napkin, he reached out and softly dragged the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip. “There,” he said, his voice a raspy whisper.
x
February gave way to March and more sunshine. Elliot promised the twins a day at the zoo and ushered them onto the train. He looked for a seat and locked eyes with Olivia. She smiled sweetly and shifted one seat to her right.
“I remember you,” Dickie said as he sat next to her. “The bookstore lady.”
Elliot recoiled at the mention of the shop, but he saw that Olivia graciously accepted the description. She remembered the children’s names and he curled his arm around the pole closest to her, leaning against it. “I swear I’m not stalking you,” he told her.
Before Olivia could respond, the train screeched to a halt, throwing Elliot off balance. She reached out, pressing her hand against his abdomen to help steady him. The lights flashed twice, and the train went dark.
“Daddy!” Lizzie cried, and Elliot picked her up and sat next to his son with his daughter on his lap.
Dickie clutched Olivia’s knee and she patted his small, chubby hand.
“It’s okay,” Elliot soothed. “I’m sure we’ll be moving any minute now.”
There were other children crying, and adults cursing, and Olivia’s voice sounded above the noise when she said, “How about a story?”
Dickie nodded and Lizzie hopped down from her dad’s lap to climb onto Olivia’s.
“I’m going to tell you the story of Detectives Silver and Gold. They are the best of friends. They are your age,” she said.
Dickie snorted a laugh. “We aren’t old enough to be detectives!”
“Well, they’re a special kind of detective. Neighborhood detectives. When their neighbor’s dog Penny goes missing, Silver and Gold decide to start an investigation and find her.” Olivia weaved a tale of two best friends and their adventures through the Upper West Side looking for Penny. She introduced other characters, changing her voice for each, and as Elliot’s eyes adjusted to the dark he could see that other children had moved closer to listen.
The crying stopped, and even the put-upon adults were quiet. The story was humorous and told a lesson on making new friends and keeping the old, and even though the lights turned on and the train jolted forward on the track, everyone continued to listen until the end of the story.
“What is that from?” Elliot asked.
“From?”
“Is that a book?”
Olivia shook her head. “No, I… I made it up.”
“Right now? Just now?”
She nodded.
Elliot shook his head, impressed. “That was good.” He looked at the kids. “Wasn’t that good?”
Dickie nodded enthusiastically and asked Olivia, “Can you come to the zoo with us?”
She looked at Elliot, at a loss for words.
“I’m sure Olivia was on her way somewhere. But maybe another time?” he asked, hopeful.
Olivia nodded. “I’d like that.”
The car emptied out at the next stop, and the twins started moving from seat to seat, leaving Elliot and Olivia to talk. “What’s the latest on your computer friend?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I brought up meeting and he said something weird.”
“What?”
“He said he’s in the middle of a project that needs tweaking.” She punctuated the sentence with a shrug.
Elliot clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
“What?” she asked, concerned.
“I mean, it’s not my place, but… that sounds like…”
“Like what?” she prodded.
“Like he’s married?”
Olivia shook her head. “Trust me, he’s not.”
“Maybe he’s seeing other people.”
Her brow furrowed and the train screeched to a stop.
“Well, that’s us,” Elliot said. “Good luck.” He rounded the children up, and they waved to Olivia from the track as the doors closed.
x
From: Shopgirl
To: NY152
Subject: Curious…
I was thinking about what you said the last time I mentioned we should meet in person. I feel silly even asking this, considering we haven’t met, but… are you seeing anyone right now? Is that why you’re not available to meet just yet?
x
From: NY152
To: Shopgirl
Subject: Re: Curious
I think I know what’s happened. Your friends are planting ideas about me in your head. I’m not seeing anyone. I promise you that.
Elliot sent the message, waited ten minutes, and dialed Olivia’s number. “What are you up to this afternoon?” he asked.
She stammered, taken aback by the call and the question. “Nothing?”
“It’s a beautiful day. Would you like to have lunch? I wanted to talk to you about that story you told the kids on the subway.”
Olivia agreed, and ninety minutes later she met him at an outdoor table at a French bistro.
“The twins can’t stop talking about the story you told on the subway,” Elliot said. “They’ve been coming up with all kinds of cases Silver and Gold could investigate.” He delighted at the way her face flushed and she smiled. “Have you ever thought about writing children’s books?”
“No, not really. I mean, in passing.”
Elliot reached into the front pocket of his shirt and pinched a small white card between two fingers, offering it to her. “I have a friend in publishing. You should give him a call.”
“Out of the blue?”
He laughed. “I told him about you.”
There was something about the timbre of Elliot’s voice that made Olivia’s toes curls inside her sneakers. She tucked the card inside her purse and gulped her ice water, hoping it would chase away the heat she felt flaring in her cheeks.
“Oh, uh, did you ask your friend if he’s involved with other people?”
“I asked him. He said he’s not seeing anyone,” Olivia told him.
“And you’re just going to take his word for it?”
“Yes, of course.”
Elliot sighed. “What’s his screen name?” he asked, and when she glowered at him, he added, “I’m not going to email him. I’m curious.”
“NY152.”
“New York. One hundred and fifty-two.” He thought for a minute. “One hundred and fifty-two years is how long he’s been sentenced to prison.”
Olivia scoffed and threw a wadded-up napkin at him.
Elliot grinned. “He’s had one hundred and fifty-two moles removed and now he has-”
Despite her peals of laughter, Olivia kicked him under the table. “Stop!” She had to look away from him, his blue eyes too bright and endearing and electrifying. “You know, Elliot, I don’t even know… are you divorced?”
He shifted in his seat. It was an opportunity to bare his soul and the truth, but he wasn’t ready to risk losing Olivia and Shopgirl. He said, “My wife passed away,” and hoped she wouldn’t press for more information.
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Olivia told him. “NY152… he’s a widower.”
“Oh?”
“That’s how we connected actually. In a grief support group. After my mother passed away.”
Elliot saw the way any previous softness toward him tightened in her features at the mention of her mother and the connection to the shop she had lost.
“Thanks for the information,” she said, referring back to his friend in publishing, taking the conversation from the personal to the professional.
x
The kitchen looked like a war zone after the twins tried to make breakfast for the family. Maureen promised to clean up, but Elliot had time to kill before the Farmer’s Market opened. He let her wash the dishes and pass them to him to dry.
“Dad,” she said, and he recognized the tone. She had a sensitive question she was afraid to ask.
“What is it, babe?”
Maureen shook soapy water from her fingers and leaned her hip against the counter to face him. “That woman Dickie and Lizzie were talking about? The one who told that story? Are you, like, dating her?”
Elliot shook his head. “No.”
“But do you, like, want to date her? Because if you do, we’re okay with that.”
He smiled and cupped the back of her head, drawing her closer to kiss her forehead. “I appreciate that, Maureen, but I don’t think Olivia is interested in me that way.”
“I bet you’re wrong,” she told him.
x
Olivia thought nine o’clock in the morning was the perfect time of day during the spring season. There was enough of a chill in the air that she needed a comfortable sweater, but she didn’t have to be weighed down by a hat and scarf and gloves or heavy boots on her feet. The air in the Farmer’s Market was perfumed with flowers and fruit and the coffee being sold at every street corner. The sky was a crystalline blue with fluffy white clouds and a gentle sun that promised a pleasant warmth later in the day.
She was examining jars of homemade jam when she heard a familiar voice say, “The apricot is the best.”
Olivia turned around and offered Elliot a smile. “I was eyeing the blackberry,” she told him.
“That’s a solid choice too.”
The two of them ended up walking along the rows of vendors. She helped him pick a ripe mango and Elliot paid for the bundle of fresh herbs Olivia chose. “I don’t know what to do with them,” she confessed, “but I have time to figure it out.”
He bought a bag of sourdough hard pretzels and paid for an oversized chocolate chip cookie, and they found a bench to sit and share the treats.
“Did you call Fin?” he asked.
“I have a meeting with him on Tuesday,” Olivia confided giddily.
Elliot transferred his bag of pretzels to the bench beside him, freeing his hand to offer her a high-five. She tapped her palm against his. “We should celebrate,” he suggested.
“There’s nothing to celebrate yet.”
“There will be. Let me take you out for a drink after the meeting.”
Olivia’s teeth pinched her bottom lip.
It pained Elliot how hesitant she was to accept. “You can bring your friends. Invite Casey.”
She relaxed. “Okay. That would be great.”
x
From: Shopgirl
To: NY152
Subject: Meet?
I have exciting news I’d love to share with you. It requires finally breaching the ‘no personal information’ rule. Would you like to meet this weekend? I was thinking Bow Bridge. Cliché, I know, but it really is a beautiful spot.
x
Elliot settled on a classy wine bar, and it took two glasses for John Munch to warm up to him, but soon they were all getting along to toast Olivia’s contract with the children’s division of Tutuola Publishing. Casey even conceded that he wasn’t a terrible boss.
When he and Olivia were the only two left at the table, Elliot picked up a large envelope from the table. “Finally!” she said. “I’ve been dying to know what’s in there.”
He laughed as he opened the flap and carefully removed several sheets of paper. “The twins told my older girls the story of Silver and Gold. My Maureen, she’s a hell of an artist.” He offered the papers to her.
Olivia looked down at incredibly whimsical but lifelike drawings of two children detectives and a background of New York City from a kid’s perspective. “These are amazing,” she said, blinking back the tears that blurred her vision.
“She doesn’t know I’m showing you. She doesn’t want you to think you have to use these for the book. But I wanted you to see the vision.”
“Elliot, these are… I don’t even know what to say. I’d like to tell her myself how wonderful these are. If Fin doesn’t have a problem I’d love to use them.”
He grinned with pride and let her tuck the drawings back into the envelope. “They’re yours,” he said when Olivia asked if it was okay to take them.
They exited the restaurant and walked to the intersection where she intended to hail a cab. Elliot drove his hands into the pockets of his pants, nervous, hiding his clammy palms. “Olivia,” he said.
“Hmm?”
“This weekend, uh, would you like to have dinner?”
Her lips formed the shape of a word that she was unable to vocalize. Olivia looked side to side, hoping a yellow taxi would rescue her. “It sounds like you’re asking me on a date,” she said.
“What if I am?”
“I would have to… I would have to say no, Elliot. I’m meeting NY152 this weekend.”
He had been hoping she would cancel her date at Central Park to pursue the obvious attraction between them. Selfishly it spared him from having to continue being deceitful out of fear of losing her completely, but he also wanted Olivia to pick him. The man she had gotten to know recently. Without the protection of a computer screen. “Ah, I see.”
“But even if…”
Elliot nodded, understanding what she left unspoken. “If I hadn’t been Stabler Books and you hadn’t been The Shop Around the Corner, and you and I had just met, I would have asked for your number,” he told her. “And I wouldn’t have been able to wait the customary twenty-four hours to call, so you would have come home to a message on your answering machine from me.”
Olivia mouthed, “Don’t,” and she felt her body pull toward him even as she took a step away.
“In a parallel universe, we would have been…”
“Elliot.”
He winced. “How can you forgive that guy for standing you up but not me for putting you out of business?” Elliot heard the answer in the question. He sighed, nodding, and saw a flash of yellow in his peripheral vision. He reached out, signaling the driver, and a cab pulled up to the curb. He opened the back door for Olivia.
She stared at him, shaking her head. “I owe it to myself to see things through with him,” she explained. “And I… I can’t…”
He nodded, and she climbed into the seat and let him close the door. He stood on the curb as the cab pulled into traffic. Elliot was running the risk of losing her altogether, and part of him wanted to chase after the car and confess everything. He planned to arrive at the bridge and let Olivia see him and let her decide if he was an unforgivable bastard, or if things would fall into place for her they way they had for him.
x
Elliot was ready to walk out the door with a bouquet of peonies when the babysitter called to say she had gotten sick. The older girls were out, and when none of the neighbors seemed to be home, he had no choice but to take the children with him.
He wiped yogurt from Dickie’s mouth and brushed Lizzie’s hair into a ponytail and said, “Be on your best behavior. You’re going to see Olivia, but I need you to stay calm and quiet.”
x
Olivia walked down the stoop in a simple blue dress and sensible flats. She reconsidered her outfit two blocks away but convinced herself to keep going.
The cherry blossoms bloomed a vibrant pink against the surrounding verdant trees. Olivia tried to focus on the beauty and let it soothe her nerves, but she had to pace back and forth across the bridge. She saw couples pass by her, holding hands, smiling, laughing. She longed for the companionship, but she had no interest in spending her time with someone that didn’t thrill her and make her better and make her pulse race.
She would have been lying if she said Elliot Stabler did not tick all of those boxes, but she couldn’t get past the animosity and the way he was a constant reminder of losing the shop. On the other hand, if it hadn’t been for him she would have never met with Fin. She would never have started writing a series of children’s books and signed a contract to have them published.
Olivia breathed through her nerves and doubts. She heard the high-pitched, overlapping voices of children calling her name and searched for the source. She saw Dickie and Lizzie running toward the bridge, and Elliot appeared in their wake, looking frustrated, calling after them to stop.
He locked eyes with Olivia as his children reached her, throwing their arms around her. She looked at him with bleary eyes, and in the moment he couldn’t tell if she was betrayed and angry or overwhelmed with relief, his chest ached. Elliot jogged the rest of the way and gently encouraged the kids to step aside so he could talk to Olivia.
The two of them stood face to face. She looked at the peonies. “Are those for me?”
He smiled. “Yes.”
A plump tear slipped from the corner of her eye.
Elliot reached out, catching it with his thumb. “Don’t cry, Shopgirl.”
“I wanted it to be you,” Olivia told him, her voice breaking. “I hoped it would be you.”
“I’m sorry I… I’m sorry things got so complicated. I didn’t want you to reject NY152 because of what you knew about me, but I hated-”
Olivia reached out, pressing her fingers lightly to his lips. “I understand. I mean, I said you had a cash register for a heart.”
“You know, I keep forgetting about that, and then you keep remind-”
Olivia stood on the tips of her toes and sought his lips in a soft, sweet kiss. She pulled back at the sound of the twins’ giggling. Careful not to crush the flowers she cradled in one arm, she lifted her other hand to the back of his neck, stroking the soft hairs at his nape. “I’m glad it was you, Elliot.”
He smiled, wanting to kiss her again, but the kids were running in circles around them. Hollering about ice cream and the zoo. Olivia took him by the hand and let Lizzie carry the flowers when she asked, and as they walked across the bridge she whispered to him, “Don’t worry, I’m going to kiss you again later.”
-THE END-
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