"Connie Willis - Miracle and Other Christmas Stories" - читать интересную книгу автора (Willis Connie)

"A spirit who's an animal-rights activist!" Fred said delightedly. "Where did your sister get
him from?"
"The astral plane," Lauren said. "She was trance-channeling or something. I don't care
where he came from. I just want to get rid of him before he decides my Christmas presents
aren't recyclable, too."
"Okay," he said, hitting a key on the computer. The screen lit up. "The first thing we need to
do is find out what he is and how he got here. I want you to call your sister. Maybe she knows
some New Age spell for getting rid of the spirit." He began to type rapidly. "I'll get on the
Net and see if I can find someone who knows something about magic."
He swiveled around to face her. "You're sure you want to get rid of him?"
"I have a tree growing out of my kitchen floor!"
"But what if he's telling the truth? What if he really can get you what you want for
Christmas?"
"What I wanted was to mail my Christmas cards, which are now shedding needles on the
kitchen tile. Who knows what he'll do next?"
"Yeah," he said. "Listen, whether he's dangerous or not, I
think I should go home with you after work, in case he shows up again, but I've got a PMS
meeting for the office party—"
"That's okay. He's an animal-rights activist. He's not dangerous."
"That doesn't necessarily follow," Fred said. "I'll come over as soon as my meeting's over,
and meanwhile I'll check the Net. Okay?"
"Okay," she said. She started out of the cubicle and then stopped. "I really appreciate your
believing me, or at least not saying you don't believe me."
He smiled at her. "I don't have any choice. You're the only other person in the world who
likes Miracle on 34th Street better than It's a Wonderful Life. And Fred Gailey believed
Macy's Santa Claus was really Santa Claus, didn't he?"
"Yeah," she said. "I don't think this guy is Santa Claus. He was wearing Birkenstocks."
"I'll meet you at your front door," he said. He sat down at the computer and began typing.
Lauren went out through the maze of cubicles and into the hall.
"There you are!" Scott said. "I've been looking for you all over." He smiled meltingly. "I'm
in charge of buying gifts for the office party, and I need your help."
"My help?"
"Yeah. Picking them out. I hoped maybe I could talk you into going shopping with me after
work tonight."
"Tonight?" she said. "I can't. I've got—"A Christmas tree growing in my kitchen. "Could we
do it tomorrow after work?"
He shook his head. "I've got a date. What about later on tonight? The stores are open till
nine. It shouldn't take more than a couple of hours to do the shopping, and then we could go
have a late supper somewhere. What say I pick you up at your apartment at six-thirty?"
And have the spirit lying on the couch, drinking Evian water and watching TV? "I can't," she
said regretfully.
Even his frown was cute. "Oh, well," he said, and shrugged. "Too bad. I guess I'll have to get
somebody else." He gave her another adorable smile and went off down the hall to ask
somebody else.
 I hate you, Spirit of Christmas Present, Lauren thought, standing there watching Scott's
handsome back recede. You'd better not be there when I get home.
A woman came down the hall, carrying a basket of candy canes. "Compliments of the
Personnel Morale Special Committee," she said, offering one to Lauren. "You look like you
could use a little Christmas spirit."
"No, thanks, I've already got one," Lauren said.