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until I give you your heart’s desire.”
    “That is my heart’s desire. I want you to go away and take this tree and your Yanomamo ornaments with you.”
    “You know the biggest problem I have as the Spirit of Christmas Present?” he said. He reached into the back pocket of his shorts and pulled out a brown garland of what looked like coffee beans. “My biggest problem is that people don’t know what they want.”
    “I know what I want,” Lauren said. “I don’t want to have to write my Christmas cards all over again—”
    “You didn’t write them,” he said, draping the garland over the branches. “They were printed. Do you know that the inks used on those cards contain harmful chemicals?”
    “I don’t want to be lectured on environmental issues, I don’t want to have to fight my way through a forest to get to the refrigerator, and I don’t want to have to turn down dates because I have a spirit in my apartment. I want a nice, quiet Christmas with no hassles. I want to exchange a few presents with my friends and go to the office Christmas party and …” And dazzle Scott Buckley in my off-the-shoulder black dress, she thought, but she decided she’d better not say that. The spirit might decide Scott’s clothes weren’t made of natural fibers or something and turn him into a Yanomamo Indian.
    “… and have a nice, quiet Christmas,” she finished lamely.
    “Take
It’s a Wonderful Life,”
the spirit said, squinting at the tree. “I watched it this afternoon while you were at work. Jimmy Stewart didn’t know what he wanted.”
    He reached into his pocket again and pulled out a crooked star made of Brazil nuts and twine. “He thought he wanted to go to college and travel and get rich, but what he
really
wanted was right there in front of him the whole time.”
    He did something, and the top of the tree lopped over in front of him. He tied the star on with the twine, and did something else. The tree straightened up. “You only think you want me to leave,” he said.
    Someone knocked on the door.
    “You’re right,” Lauren said. “I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay right there.” She ran into the living room.
    The spirit followed her into the living room. “Luckily, being a spirit, I know what you really want,” he said, and disappeared.
    She opened the door to Fred. “He was just here,” she said. “He disappeared when I opened the door, which is what all the crazies say, isn’t it?”
    “Yeah,” Fred said. “Or else, ‘He’s right there. Can’t you seehim?’” He looked curiously around the room. “Where was he?”
    “In the kitchen,” she said, shutting the door. “Decorating a tree which probably isn’t there either.” She led him into the kitchen.
    The tree was still there, and there were large brownish cards stuck all over it.
    “You really do have a tree growing in your kitchen,” Fred said, squatting down to look at the roots. “I wonder if the people downstairs have roots sticking out of their ceiling.” He stood up. “What are these?” he said, pointing at the brownish cards.
    “Christmas cards.” She pulled one off. “I told him I wanted mine back.” She read the card aloud. “‘In the time it takes you to read this Christmas card, eighty-two harp seals will have been clubbed to death for their fur.’” She opened it up. “‘Happy Holidays.’”
    “Cheery,” Fred said. He took the card from her and turned it over. “‘This card is printed on recycled paper with vegetable inks and can be safely used as compost.’”
    “Did anyone on the Net know how to club a spirit to death?” she asked.
    “No. Didn’t your sister have any ideas?”
    “She didn’t know how she got him in the first place. She and her Maharishi were channeling an Egyptian nobleman and he suddenly appeared, wearing a ‘Save the Dolphins’ T-shirt. I got the idea the Maharishi was as surprised as she was.” She sat down at the kitchen table. “I tried to