Even on her way to check on her girls and tucking them in, Coco's thoughts went back to her mother. She should check up, she knew, even if Elena had. Elena was just a sweet little girl, she didn't know all of what was upsetting her Abeula. Was honestly forming wrong opinions...

Coco shut this thought down. It wasn't fair. Mama had a reason to say what she did...

"I know you couldn't have done any of the terrible things she says though...", the young woman whispered to the empty hallway and a father that wouldn't hear her. Honestly, she'd considered he was dead many times over. Why else...

"The noises continued...", Coco caught Julio's voice as she neared the girls' shared bedroom.

Another made up bedtime story...

Coco walked in but only as far as the door frame, leaning against it and listening.

"...and so, I decided that I was the only hope your Tía Rosita had!", Julio went on, to two wide-eyed little girls, but with light suspicion in their sensible eyes. "...She was still over in the corner, hugging Princessa...", Coco had forgotten if Princessa had been a kitty or stuffed animal, but this escapade was from the two's childhood she recognized from what her sister-in-law had said. "I pushed back the couch and...".

"Papa, you couldn't have pushed back a whole couch", Victoria challenged in her small voice. Poor Julio...it was the day to correct him!

Coco recognized things were not always about her own inner problems and dance shoes.

Victoria noticed her watching in the doorway. "Mama! Papa's making stuff up again! mentir".

"Now Victoria", Coco entered, "if your father says he moved an entire couch when he was only Cinco años de edad, he moved an entire couch", the doubt was in her own voice, though she didn't let the girls hear it.

"Gracias...creo", Julio said with a light frown at the end. Victoria and Elena giggled.

Coco smiled, "Can the story of the vicious Behind the Couch animal wait until tomorrow?", she tried to get the girls closer to a normal bedtime.

"No!", two young voices protested, and Julio might have lowly added to it...

Coco lightly chuckled, they would challenge their father on every detail, but wanted to hear it. That was her Elena and Victoria. "Well then I'll say my goodnights now", she went over and gave each girl a kiss, noting the light frown that came to her husband's face as Julio was left out, and not commenting to it. Elena at least was getting to the age that she understood what slight, still discreet comments meant. With a smile to her husband that told him not to be silly or childish, she just left the room...and decided she had one more family member that needed her presence.

<>

"Mama...? Can I come in?", Coco lightly rapped against the door frame, surprised to find the door open honestly. Imelda sat at her vanity, tying her hair up for nighttime securing; well or had been, she was currently paused mid-way, lost somewhere. She turned, coming out of a memory, Coco realized as her eyes landed on her daughter.

"Coco...yes, of course", she cleared her throat and turned back to the mirror. "Is everything alright?" she asked in her typical, Matriarch Checking the Shop voice.

I don't know...is it?

"Yes...", Coco answered, taking a seat on the edge of her mother's bed. "Julio's putting the girls down, and I know Rosita will turn in after reading her latest book", she smiled fondly at her romantic sister-in-law and her Happy Ending but Sad Middle ballad type stories she was drawn to. Imelda made a non committal hum.

Even that was probably too close.

"And I...also...wanted to apologize", Coco's hands twisted in her lap. Her mother gave her her full attention in the mirror.

She cleared her throat again, "There's no need", she answered simply but caring, and didn't mention the shoes again, since she had already delivered her directive. A silence spanned.

"Are you alright?", Coco finally asked.

"Oh of course", Imelda answered quickly. The cat came over and rubbed against Imelda's legs. Coco glanced to it. Her. "Mama...how old is Pepita anyway? She seems...to have always been around".

"You know I don't honestly know", Imelda answered glancing down to the cat, "for all I know the Pepita we first knew has been handing her own mantel to her children and we never knew it". Both woman chuckled over this.

"Well people would know if I pretended to be you", Coco said.

"Oh of course they would, especially if I showed up two minutes later".

This was a good moment, so Coco didn't know why she felt the need to ruin it.

"I know...we think differently...and...I know he never meant to hurt us", she said softly. Imelda didn't catch on at first.

"Coco, Pepita's a she a-", then Imelda did. She went back to brushing, a bit stiffly, "I don't feel like discussing this now".

"Then when...?", Coco lightly challenged, softly, sadly, "Mama...I'm thinking of you. It...can't be good, pretending...we...we only want to...".

The brush slammed down, and Coco stopped. Imelda took a moment of her own, taking in and then letting out a slow breath. "I understand that you were only four...and...naive then...".

"Mama that's not...".

Imelda held up a hand, "He didn't look back, Coco, do you understand what I'm telling you? You didn't see it, you were in your room, humming that-", Imelda went to condemn the song, but didn't, "...I had hoped when you grew up, you'd see things clearer".

Coco glanced down, "The letters promised...", she still clung to her faith, but was done arguing; her mother wouldn't accept it, that had been clear for a while, but she'd had to try again. Again for Imelda's own sake.

"And his words before!", Imelda spat out, "he broke all of those, ¡Estúpido! ¡Egoísta!...", she noticed the tears forming on her daughter's cheeks, and halted her words. All these years...she's not going to change her mind...her faith.

Imelda came to realize this herself. Coco held a stubbornness of her own. The older woman sighed, she couldn't make Coco forget Héctor, as she'd thought best at first. She stood, coming over to stand before her daughter, "Ven aquí cariño...", she hugged Coco to her, as if she were still four. Of course she put all of this hurt on Héctor too; refused to think it was any fault of her own stubbornness. It all stemmed from his initially.