Crystal was gone. The walls of the old woman's apartment were covered with faded shapes where her photographs had been, and the floor was covered with dust bunnies. Lacey didn't want to be there, staring around the almost-empty space. Torturing herself with memories of all the times Crystal had let her hang out there when she needed to escape her dad. But she didn't want to go back to her apartment. Bronson was waiting for her there. He'd probably kiss her and pour her a glass of wine. He'd be sympathetic, while not budging an inch. He wouldn't give her what she wanted, but he'd make it impossible for her to hate him, or even be angry. She needed to wallow in her pain. To feel anger. She was losing everything, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do to stop it.
When the moving truck was full, and Crystal had been ready to leave, Lacey had hugged her for a long time, not wanting to let her go. Apart from Lacey, she was the last tenant to leave. Now the building was empty, and tomorrow was the last day. On Wednesday morning, the bet would officially end.
How would she break it to her father? She'd been so sure she'd win, but she hadn't made the competition hard enough. Bronson hadn't been tempted to leave, not once. She'd failed, and now her father would pay the price.
Lacey slid down the wall until she was sitting. She didn't even have a tissue to blow her runny nose. Crystal had left Lacey's belongings in a pile in the middle of the living room, and the heaters, rugs, and lamps she'd stashed here before Bronson arrived looked lost in the big space. The box of firewood Lacey had lugged over was still intact. Because her fireplace didn't work, Crystal hadn't used any of it. Now it would be wasted.
She stared at it for a moment longer, then frowned. Crystal had never used her fireplace because it blew smoke back into the building. What if Lacey could use that? What if she could smoke Branson out?
Maybe it wasn't too late after all. If she could win the bet, the old woman might come back. And when Lacey's father came home, everything could be as it was. She could finally make up for all the awful things she'd said to him. If she tried hard enough, she could make it happen.
Lacey scrambled to her feet and stacked up paper and wood in Crystal's fireplace. She wet some of the top pieces of wood so it would generate a lot of smoke, and made sure the damper was mostly shut, so the smoke wouldn't be able to escape up the chimney. She had to make it impossible for Bronson to stay in the building.
Before lighting the fire, she tiptoed down the hallway to the next empty apartment and did the same. Then the next. Finally, she was ready. With a lighter in her hand, she hesitated over the first of the fires. What if she accidentally burned the building down? And what if fire engines turned up? Could she be charged with a crime?
She was taking a big risk. But explaining to her father how she'd lied to him would be worse.
Touching the lighter to the paper, she watched it catch. Smoke curled into the empty apartment, making her cough as she backed away. She left the front door open and lit the rest of the fires. Now the whole building stunk of smoke, and her eyes were starting to water.
She ran down the hall to her door and threw it open. "Bronson. Quick! I think the building's on fire."
He was by her side in an instant, covering his mouth and nose with one hand. "You okay? Where's the fire? On this level?"
"Don't know." Her eyes and throat were stinging and she couldn't stop coughing. "We've got to get out of here."
He tugged a handkerchief out of his pocket. "Here. Put this over your face."
The building's ancient sprinkler system kicked into life. Rusty, foul-smelling water sputtered from outlets in the ceiling. Lacey shrieked and hunched her shoulders as the cold water soaked her.
Bronson grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the stair well. In spite of the sprinklers, black smoke was still billowing around them. "I'll get you out, then check the other apartments."
If he did that, he'd find the fires she'd lit. "They're all empty. Everyone's gone."
They raced down the three flights of stairs to the lobby, and he held the front door open so she could go outside. She tried to pull him out with her. If he came out onto the sidewalk, he'd be breaking the terms of the bet. All he had to do was take one step outside, and the Baxter would be saved.
But he let go of her hand and stayed inside, holding the door open. "I'm not coming out, Lacey."
"But you have to. It's too dangerous to stay in there."
He shook his head. Water was dripping from his hair and clothes, and his expression was hard enough to make her heart contract. "I know you did this, and I can't believe you'd actually set the building alight. Is there really a fire? Or did you find some way to make a lot of smoke?"
She wrapped her arms around her body as the cold wind cut through her wet clothes. "Please, Bronson. There's too much smoke to stay inside. You have to come out."
"Don't ask me to do that. You know I can't."
"I'm begging you." She started to shake. "Please. Bronson, for me. If you have any feelings for me at all-"
"Is the building on fire?" A man's voice came from behind her and Lacey jerked around. He was tall, wearing a suit and carrying a clipboard. "I've called the fire department," he said, frowning. "They're on their way."
"Oh god." Lacey swallowed, glancing at Bronson in the doorway. "That's not necessary. Please call back and tell them it was a mistake."
"I can't do that," said the man.
"Please." Her stomach was turning itself inside out. "I live here, and I did this. The building's not really on fire. Nobody needs to come."
Bronson spoke up. "I'll see if I can stop the smoke and turn the sprinklers off." He disappeared back inside.
"Are you Lacey Gibson?" asked the man.
"Why? Who are you?"
He dug in his pocket and handed her a business card. "I'm a building inspector with the council. We've had reports of a collapsed floor, and seen photographs to suggest this building is no longer safe for habitation. I've come to seal it."
"Seal it?" The wind was so cold, she could hardly think straight. "You can't do that. The building's fine. It was just one part of the floor, because of the leaks."
"I'm sorry, Ma'am."
"But you can't. Look, come with me and I'll show you." She took a step toward the door, but he put his hand up to stop her.
"You can't go back in, I'm afraid. I have a team on the way to inspect the place. And I'll have to ask your husband to leave too."
"He's not my husband, and you can't do this. My father's books are in there. His things. At least let me go and-"
"Is there anyone else inside?"
"No. But-" A van pulled up, filled with men in hard hats and florescent vests. And now she could hear a siren wailing. A fire engine on its way. "There's no fire. Please, you have to tell them. The building's fine. It was just a trick, that's all. You don't understand."
"The man who went back inside. What's his name?"
"Bronson Reyne. He owns the building, and he'll tell you it's safe. You don't need to seal it."
The man stepped past her and opened the door. Leaning in, he yelled for Bronson. The smoke wasn't as bad now, but the sprinklers were still spraying water.
"Please." Her voice rose. "Please, don't do this. The building can be saved."
He turned to her. "That's what we're here to decide. But I'm afraid nobody's allowed in until we've completed our inspection. Do you have somewhere you can stay?"
Bronson appeared at the door. "The fires are out."
"Sir. I have to ask you to step outside. I understand you own the building?"
"That's right."
"You will have been sent formal notification of the building closure, and I have a copy here I can give you. It contains information explaining your rights, and the steps the council intends to take."
Men in vests were assembling on the sidewalk. The fire truck pulled up behind their van, and more men jumped out.
Lacey closed her eyes and put both hands over her face. She wasn't just shaking from the cold now. Her tears felt hot against her fingers.
"Here's my assistant's phone number," said Bronson. "She'll deal with everything. You need anything, you can talk to her."
His arm went around Lacey's shoulders and he pulled her against him. He was finally outside the Baxter, but she'd screwed up badly. She'd be lucky not to be arrested.
"Come on," he said in her ear. "You're trembling. I'm taking you to my place."
"No," she whispered. "Don't let them seal the building. Please. My father's things are in there. His books. And Myrtle. What'll happen to her?"
He rubbed her arms and kissed her forehead. "It's okay," he murmured. "I'll get you warm, then we'll sort everything out."