On the morning of the twenty-second, an old man came in at opening and spoke to Sturgis at some length and with some urgency, after which they left directly with each other and Janice did not see her grandfather again for the remainder of that day and most of the next. She had to apologize on his behalf to a number of other callers in the interim, notably a dark-visaged middle-aged and oddly familiar man of about her father’s age who came in at closing on the twenty-third.
     Unexpectedly, this one declined to be dismissed. “Well I’ll just have to go over things with you, then,” he said. “You’re Janice, right? I suppose he left instructions with you.”
     “Not to my knowledge,” she told him. “I’m sorry, but do I know you?”
     The stranger chuckled. “Less well than I know you, apparently. Your grandfather introduced you to me when you were about ten, but I’m not surprised you don’t remember. You’re acquainted with my boys, though—Fred and Charlie?”
     Jan let out a little gasp. “Why of course! You’re Uncle Joe, then? I thought you never—” She stopped, not wanting to sound rude, but her visitor both caught her drift and took it in stride. “Never left the Hollow?” he said. “Oh, I’m not such a homebody as that. It’s true I don’t get down to this side of town much, though.”
     “Homebodies” as applied to the branch of the family that lived in Jimmy’s Hollow was something of an understatement, Janice felt. Like many of Las Bellotas’s Indian minority, the residents of the rancheria lands around the old harbor tended to keep to themselves, but they took their looking inward to a fault. Rancheria Bellotas were rarely seen as far south as the plaza except in attendance at services in the old mission church, and practically never beyond. To them Portola Plaza, heart of the old Pueblo, indeed might as well have been the edge of town.
     For that matter, since Fred and Charlie Sanchez were second rather than first cousins, their father wasn’t really her uncle, but the honorific came easier and made more sense to her than any alternative.
     “What brings you down today?” Janice asked.
     “Oh, the usual,” said Uncle Joe, cryptically, though the explanation was immediately forthcoming. “We’re expecting your grandpa over the day after tomorrow—you too, I suppose—and don’t want any feelings ruffled. He can be, well, a little sensitive when it comes to religious observances.”
     “Ah.” Now it was clear. Sturgis was one of the few remaining Bellotas, maybe even the only one, who still adhered to the old, pre-Christian faith. The family of his late sister, on the other hand, was quite devotedly Catholic. “Well, I’m sorry, Uncle Joe, but he hasn’t said anything about it to me. And I’m afraid he’s up in San Francisco right now, and hasn’t said when he’ll be back.”
     “Oh, right, I heard he was attending old Virgil Hathaway,” Joe said, nodding. “These things can take time. How’s this, then? I’ll tell you what we’re planning and you tell me if you think there’s anything in it he might object to. Can you do that, you think?”
     Janice smiled; if anyone was an expert in things Sturgis objected to, she had little doubt by this time that she was the one. “Shoot,” she invited.
     A surprisingly lengthy negotiation followed. The Sanchezes may not have wanted to offend their wayward relative’s religious sensibilities, but neither were they interested in compromising their own. She got the impression a great many of the points touched on had already been thrashed out quite thoroughly on previous occasions, but none, it appeared, were deemed settled forever. Conscious of her grandfather’s feelings she felt obliged to assume any manifestation of Christian worship might be objectionable. She had to walk a fine line, attempting to negotiate a program that might exclude him from its compass without either explicitly or implicitly condemning him, while at the same time not stepping on any toes of the host family. The hell of it was that she had no idea if her work on his behalf would even meet with his approval.
     Joe at least appeared to think so, congratulating her at the conclusion of their back-and-forthing on her steadfast advocacy.
     “Why?” she asked. “It can’t be pleasant, going through all this year after year. I’d think you would be heartily sick having someone say no to this and no to that all the time.”
     “Not my favorite duty,” Joe conceded. “But your grandfather’s all that’s left of the older generation since Mother passed on. The kids sometimes say I should stop making the effort, but I’d hate for him to feel he couldn’t come. He and Mother were a lot alike you know, in spite of their differences, and his visits were the highlights of her life, toward the end. It may sound silly to you, but I see her in him, and having him come feels a little like having her back again. I’m glad we could work this out.”
     “I don’t know that we did,” Janice told him. “He didn’t exactly commission me to speak on his behalf you know, and nothing can be considered final unless and until he agrees to it.”
     Joe nodded airily. “We’ve a framework, anyway, and it could well hold.” And he sealed the truce by condescending to purchase one of Sara’s pseudo-pagan figurines. On departing he bade Janice a rather courtly farewell, expressing the hope that they might renew their acquaintance at his son Fred’s in two days’ time. She politely concurred, though by this time it all sounded like it would be a beastly bore, even though she herself had no personal beef with any of what she worried Sturgis would. She strongly suspected she was to be caught in the middle of a long cold war in which she had no stake, and that she might pass the time much happier, if more dully, if she could attend alone. Indeed, the Sanchez family’s way of keeping Christmas sounded much like that of her own, which made her feel homesick in a fashion she had hardly expected.
     Janice was glad when Sturgis finally came back later that evening, though he was if anything even more taciturn and grumpy than usual. “How is Mr. Hathaway?” she asked, to draw him out, and was gratified to see her gambit succeed in spades.
     “How do you know about him?” he demanded, his eyes widening in surprise.
     “Your nephew was in,” she said. “When I mentioned where you were, he said you must be with him. Who is he, anyway?”
     Sturgis sighed. “An old friend from the East,” he said. “His people are all back there, and it’s tough going for him this time of year.”
     “Must be tough for a lot of folks, they way you’ve been in and out. Why do they all want you?”
     A defensive look came over her grandfather’s face. “Jan,” he said, “I know you have some notion of what I do. Let’s just say Christmas isn’t for everybody, but there’s still a void some feel this time of year. I’m able to help with that.”
     How? she wondered, even as she knew it would be pointless to ask. Instead, she moved on to the rest of what had passed between her and Uncle Joe.
     His response surprised her. “You did well,” he said. “Sounds like you got more concessions out of him than I’d likely have managed. Kiri willing, it might even go smoothly this year. Sorry you had to deal with all that, though.”
     “Not a problem,” Janice replied, feeling an unaccustomed glow.