Carol for Another Christmas Read Online Free PDF

she thought sourly. Might be a better neighborhood for them . She was about to change the station, hating the way the camera dwelled on the children’s sad little faces while the anchor maundered on about homeless orphans at Christmastime, when the image disappeared in a crackling blizzard of electronic snow.
    â€œDamn,” Monica said, fearing electrical problems that might slow down her little elves slaving away in their offices.
    She checked her computer screen, and it was also filled with snow. “Double damn,” she said. But as she started to turn away, the snow squiggled about like the iron filings on a magnetic drawing toy she had bought for Doug when he was a child. He hadn’t liked it. Said the magnetism was bad for his project.
    But like the iron filings, the black-and-white distortion suddenly took on a recognizable form—black eyes burning a hole in an oval—a face, of white, white snow—mouth, chin, ears—Wait a minute. She knew those ears. And the nose—that nose! The face was Doug’s. She turned around to the television. The image on the TV screen was identical to the one on the computer. How could that be? Was the television perhaps transmitting an old image of Doug and doing a follow-up story on his death—yet another story where they’d refer to her as “Former IRS tax auditor, heiress Monica ‘Money’ Banks”? But how could the computer be picking up the same image? Was one of her loyal employees screwing around with her equipment?
    She had never seen this shot of Doug before. This looked like his face the day he died, after he died, except the eyes were open.
    Then the mouth opened as well. “Hi, Sis,” it said.
    â€œIf this is some kind of a computer trick or a video splice, it’s childish and mean,” she said, not expecting an answer.
    â€œIt’s not, Sis, and there’s nothing up my sleeves, either. In fact”—he raised arms into the screen, arms that had rotted away in places, despite that expensive coffin, to bone—“no sleeves.”
    â€œThis is a truly tasteless joke, whoever you are. My brother may have just been a billionaire to you, but he was—”
    â€œYour brother. God, Moni, you can be so dense. It’s me, Doug. I came to warn you, okay?”
    â€œ You’re warning me ? That’s impossible. You’re—I mean, Doug is—dead.”
    â€œWell, yeah, I know. But don’t get hung up on details. This was originally scheduled to just be a phone call from the dead, but I thought, Hey, you know what? Me, Doug Banks, the techie billionaire, making a simple phone call—well, it’s not only dated; it’s completely out of character. So I was allowed to tinker with the production values and we’ve arranged to bring in someone I think . . . I’m getting carried away here . . .”
    Monica smiled, not warmly. “You always did.”
    â€œBut I’m not the only one, Moni. There’s got to be some changes made, Sis. Before it’s too late.”
    â€œI know it’s getting late, and those idiots you hired still haven’t come up with a product,” she said. “But they do understand that they are not leaving here until they do or I’ll sue their genius asses off. Say, as long as you’re doing some computer haunting, how about haunting them and maybe giving them some otherworldly tips on how to finish this product before Databanks goes broke?”
    A low moan from the computer rose to a wailing cry that completely filled the room until she had to hold her hands over her ears to make it stop. At last, when she couldn’t stand any more of it, the wailing did stop.
    â€œOh, Ssissss,” hissed the image of her brother’s face, albeit in black and white. You’d think such a technical genius could have managed color, but then, knowing him and the way he thought old-time movies were so cool, he might