I know that you had to wait for this one for a bit, but hopefully it was worth it. Things actually seem to be going smoothly for everyone now. Both the living and the dead. I wonder how long it'll last…

Héctor blinked blearily, drifting gradually back to awareness as a half-remembered song faded from his mind. The setting sun and the warmth at his back greeted him. He might have slept the day away yet again, but he woke up to a sense of peace and comfort. Like something nice happened while he rested out on the balcony. He almost wished that he was awake for whatever it was.

That was better than he expected. While he'd lost track of the days a bit, he knew that this was generally a bad time of the year for him. First would be the fallout of another Día de Muertos passing in failure. Then he would be hit with his birthday, the day that he died, and Coco's birthday in quick succession. And there were the other holidays, times meant to be spent with family. None of which helped his mood. They all piled together, crushing him beneath the knowledge that he wasn't with his family and it was all his fault that he was alone. Héctor normally couldn't drag his thoughts out of that dark quagmire of guilt and heartache until the seasons began to change. Or Chicharrón knocked some sense into him. The rest of the year, he was fine and could remain optimistic. But for a couple months, it was harder.

But this year was different. He didn't cross the bridge and he was still left with those sharp reminders of how much he'd missed. But he was with his family. He could see Imelda and get to know everyone. He wasn't drowning in failure and heartache this time.

But after weeks trapped in bed and in a single room, even one that felt like Imelda so strongly that it was like she was constantly right beside him, Héctor had felt like he was suffocating. He needed to move, to explore, to see something other than the four increasingly-familiar walls. His leg didn't hurt too much to stand on and that had never stopped him before, but he wasn't supposed to put any weight on it and weariness could sneak up quickly to destroy his balance. So he knew from the start that he couldn't go far. Instead, he'd used the cane to hobble out to the balcony. The fresh air and open space had helped ease the feeling of gradually going stir-crazy.

His wife's giant and mildly terrifying alebrije curling up with him had been a bit unexpected. And initially unnerving. But at least she kept him from collapsing completely when he ventured out.

Pepita started purring as he stirred, the vibrations shaking through his bones. It felt nice. With her soft fur and feathers, it turned out that she made for a surprisingly comfortable pillow. As long as she wasn't flying him through the air on a wild ride. Or roaring at him with her fangs in his face.

He should probably get back inside. He didn't even intend to stay outside as long as he had. But he was comfortable, the fresh air felt nice, and the sunset looked beautiful. His current position was relaxing and he didn't want to move.

Another perk about his spot on the balcony was that he could see the workshop across the courtyard. Somewhere in there, his family members were hard at work crafting shoes. Day in and day out, they worked on shoes and sold them to eager customers. Even his occasional glimpses at a distance weren't enough to give him much knowledge on the process. But once he regained the strength and endurance to make it across the courtyard without the risk of collapsing, maybe he could get a closer look and spend some more time with his family.

"Who would have predicted this a year ago?" Héctor murmured drowsily. "I'm with my family. Imelda… She's letting me stay in her home. I met my great-great-grandson. And… I'm still here. Somehow, I'm not gone."

But not Chicharrón. And who knows how many had vanished in the days since Día de Muertos. Nothing was permanent in Shantytown. Everyone disappeared eventually. He'd lost so many people over the decades. And he kept lingering, holding on even as he faded with his daughter's memories. Even when he should have disappeared like so many others, his family pulled him back from the brink.

But the other people in Shantytown? They didn't know. The last time they saw their Cousin Héctor, he was hours away from finally being forgotten. They didn't know that a miracle in the form of a cursed great-great-grandson managed to change everything. As far as they knew, no one had seen him in over a month. They would assume that he was gone.

He should let them know that he was all right. Hobbling down the stairs and across the courtyard was still beyond him, especially without help, so making his way down to the lowest levels of the city wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Maybe he could find a way to send a message.

"How about it, Pepita? Think you can carry a letter down there without scaring everyone?" he asked, only half-joking.

She turned and stared at him with her yellow eyes. After a moment, the alebrije blinked and turned away.

"I'm guessing that's a 'no' then," he said quietly.

Well, he could figure something out later. Hopefully something that wouldn't involve letting his family see the half-collapsed shanty he'd been staying in. He had a feeling that it would cause more guilt. For now, he should probably get back inside. It was growing late and he shouldn't stay on the balcony once night fell.

Not that he hadn't slept in worse conditions before…

Using both the cane and Pepita to brace himself, Héctor worked his way back to his feet. Most of the aches in his body had dulled enough that he wasn't bothered by them. He didn't even bother with the bottle of medicine now. The itching was more annoying and distracting than the aches now. Especially the rib, every breath he took making it harder to ignore. Healing shouldn't be so frustrating and slow, but he was improving. His gradually-recovering energy just happened to be focused on repairing fractures, strengthening his weakened bones, and pulling his loose joints together more firmly rather than anything else. Hence why he didn't have much energy left over for things like staying awake during the day or walking across the room without growing exhausted.

Between the cane and the alebrije, Héctor managed to hobble his way to the door of the balcony. Pepita couldn't help much once he made it back inside though. Moving his way back towards the bed was harder. Why was walking so exhausting, leaving his legs shaking? Halfway across the room, he started growing wobbly even with the cane.

"This is really getting old," he panted tiredly, trying to catch his breath.

As he started to have serious doubts about whether or not he would stay upright long enough to reach the bed, an arm wrapped around him to support his weight and voice said, "Let's not crack your skull open and give Dr. García more work."

"Gracias," Héctor said quietly as they managed to reach the bed without further incident.

Sitting on the edge of the mattress with a sigh of relief, he was quickly joined by Victoria. She peered over the top of her glasses at him as she crossed her arms. She, and probably the others, must have finished for the day and returned to the house while he was distracted by the laborious task of walking an incredibly short distance.

"I'm fairly certain that Dr. García left clear instructions that you could try moving if someone was around to supervise," said Victoria dryly.

"I remember. Pepita supervised very closely."

The expression on her face left no doubts about her views on Pepita's suitability for the task. Héctor shrugged and grinned sheepishly.

"Lo siento. I just needed some fresh air. It wasn't my best idea. Not my worst either…"

Looking at him thoughtfully, Victoria conceded, "I suppose we should have expected that. Anyone would want to move around after spending so much time in one room. But I don't think anyone wants to tell Mamá Imelda that you managed to get hurt because you felt stir-crazy. So let's avoid that."

Chuckling lightly, Héctor gave his granddaughter a smile. Then he paused, something catching his eye.

"I haven't seen that before," Héctor said, gesturing towards her hair.

"Oh," said Victoria quietly, reaching up and touching the blue paper flower tucked in her bun. She almost looked embarrassed. "Yes. It's new."

"I think it looks nice on you," he said. "Very pretty. Just like your abuela."

She ducked her head slightly. He didn't know what her relationship with Julio's parents might be like, but she was just as new to having Héctor around as he was at having a granddaughter to shower with compliments and affection. There would be some awkwardness involved. But she did look nice with the paper flower in her hair and he wanted to make certain that she knew it. He needed to watch his words, not wanting to risk pushing too hard. He hadn't earned the right to call her "míja" or "princesa," no matter how much he already adored his smart, sensible, and strong granddaughter. But if he was careful, Héctor hoped that he could make this work.

She was Coco's daughter. Victoria was his baby girl's baby girl. How could he not adore her?

"It was a gift," she continued slowly.

"From your papá?"

Victoria shook her head and said, "No. It was… a friend."

That slight hesitation caught his attention, causing Héctor to look at her more closely. He recognized that tone and hesitation. He recognized that look in her eyes. He'd witnessed it before. Not from her, but knew it regardless.

"A friend," asked Héctor carefully, "or an admirer?"

She flinched slightly, but managed to hide any further reactions. She did seem to be staring at the wall rather intently now though. It was still enough to confirm his suspicions. Victoria had an admirer who gave her the paper flower. And she was probably fond of her admirer in return.

Héctor didn't get to watch Coco and Julio's relationship develop. He didn't get to watch her excitement over the initial attraction. He didn't get to hear his daughter eagerly talk about Julio. He didn't get to smile over their growing love story until they were both completely bound together. Watching Coco fall in love with someone was something else that he'd missed.

And he wasn't Victoria's papá. She didn't need him for advice or encouragement. That was Julio's role and Héctor wouldn't try to take his place. But he could at least watch from the sidelines.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you do have an admirer," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral. "You grew up to be a beautiful señorita. I'm more surprised that no one married you in life. Did all the young men in Santa Cecilia go blind since my death?"

Rolling her eyes at the flattering words and looking a little less uncomfortable than a moment before, Victoria said, "Hardly. There were simply not that many people willing to give up music and risk Mamá Imelda's protective streak. And those who were… They were either not worth the time or more interested in Elena." She closed her eyes for a moment before straightening. "I wasn't the one who would catch the eye."

"That's not true," Héctor said firmly.

"You've never met Elena. She looked like Mamá when she was younger."

"But I know you. And from what I've seen, you're a lot like Imelda. Beautiful, smart, and far more caring than people probably guess." Smiling wryly, he added, "Though you didn't get your height from her. But everything else is too much like Imelda and she always managed to command all the attention in a room."

Part of him wanted to wrap an arm around her. Maybe not a full-blown hug, but a small one. But he hesitated because he knew that he didn't have the right. Certainly not yet. And if he said or did something that crossed that invisible line that pushed things too far, he could lose everything that he'd gained. That fear of losing his family, of losing this one chance at having a relationship with them after so long, kept his arms at his side.

"And you've certainly caught someone's eye," he continued. "Maybe things have changed since my days, but giving a pretty señorita a flower was normally a sign that you liked her."

"I'm not talking about this."

He recognized that tone. It was pure Imelda. It was the type of tone that, before they were married, would have resulted in him teasing Imelda a little longer and would have likely ended with her dumping a bucket of water on his head or something similar. But it would have also have eventually ended up in laughter. So he knew that he hadn't crossed that invisible line with Victoria. But he should probably tread more carefully.

He shrugged, still thankful that it no longer felt like agony to move. It was amazing how many small things there were to be thankful for.

"You don't have to talk to me. You don't even have to talk about it with Julio or Imelda or anyone else," Héctor said. "That's between you and your admirer; no one else should interfere. But don't deny what I can clearly see."

"Does everyone plan to give me love advice?" asked Victoria dryly.

Smiling half-heartedly, Héctor said, "Maybe you should listen. Then you can learn from all of my mistakes and avoid ruining everything like I did."

"Not everything is ruined," said Victoria, standing up. "Not beyond repair, at least."

And with that final piece of wisdom, she walked out of the room and down the stairs.

It was rare to have such a large group crowded around her desk. They'd descended on her quiet sanctuary, moving past her silent shelves until they'd reached her. Sometimes small crowds of children and teenagers would flood in for a day or two after their teachers assign them a project, but that was an exception. Normally she only had one or two people wandering the building at a time. But this time, half a dozen people had arrived and introduced themselves. They'd claimed a few chairs and stools that were pulled around to encircle her desk. It made her feel a little crowded. But Esther was willing to deal with them. Especially considering the circumstances.

Miguel, with his stack of books, papers, and notes, was center stage as he explained what he'd found. He was the one delivering all the evidence and presenting his case. But supporting him on all sides was several members of the family. His parents, his tío and the man's wife, and even his abuela were all listening patiently. Esther knew that if she didn't take the boy seriously, she would be facing an angry and united front.

But Esther was taking him seriously. The research that she'd found for him was already concerning when combined with that foto. The letters, though… Those changed everything.

As Miguel's description finished and he stopped flipping through all the pages to show off examples, Elena gave a short nod and said, "There. You see? There is something wrong. You can see how that man took Papá Héctor's songs and claimed them as his own. He's a thief and a liar! That músico is the kind of músico that Mamá Imelda would have hated most!"

"Mamá," said Enrique gently. "It's a biblioteca. We need to keep our voices down. Let her speak."

"Doña López," Berto said. "Miguel claimed that you wanted to help if you thought the evidence was strong enough. Is that true?"

"And do you think this is enough?" added Carmen. "Señor Ernesto de la Cruz was a celebrity. He starred in movies. He was considered one of the greatest musicians in all of Mexico. His reputation and fame brings tourists to Santa Cecilia because it was his birthplace. No one will want to undermine that legacy. They would rather call us the liars."

"That's why none of you will bring this to the public," Esther said. "Someone unconnected will do it. Someone with nothing to gain from the truth. Someone with a reputation for finding answers. If anyone might be able to break the news to the public and have a chance of having it accepted, it would need to be such a person."

"And do you think that you can do it? That you are such a person?" asked Luisa, pressing at her lower back with a grimace.

Esther gave the heavily-pregnant woman a smile of sympathy. She'd been doing that since she arrived. Esther had provided Luisa with her favorite chair, the soft and padded one that Esther preferred for reading. But it wasn't enough to completely ease her discomfort. Throughout Miguel's explanation, Luisa had shifted and grimaced. While Esther never experienced pregnancy herself, she could only imagine how much of a strain it was on the back. She wished that she could offer the poor woman some relief.

"No, I don't believe that I can be the one to tell this story. A librarian from Santa Cecilia will not be enough to persuade many," Esther said. "But an investigative reporter from Mexico City might be different. He might even be able to convince some of those authors of these books to get involved."

"And how would you convince a reporter from Mexico City to help us?" asked Elena, crossing her arms.

Smiling wryly, Esther said, "By being his favorite family member. My primo's eldest boy, Martín, moved there ages ago and I'm certain that he would find Miguel's research and those letters quite interesting. I trust him to report the truth, no matter how little people may want to hear it at first." She glanced towards Miguel. "I think he would be impressed by your work."

He grinned at the praise, his papá patting his shoulder supportively. But as various members of the Rivera family exchanged nods and made sounds of approval over Esther's suggestion, a smothered moan broke through the quiet noise. Heads instantly twisted around.

"Luisa?" asked Enrique worriedly, reaching for her hand as she grimaced and curled slightly inwards around her belly.

"Mamá?"

As Miguel abandoned his piles of research and tried to hurry over to her, panic in his voice, Luisa managed to straighten a little and gave him a weak smile. It didn't completely reassure him. Nor did anyone else seem to relax as they fussed over her. But it was enough to keep the boy from growing more concerned.

"I'm all right," Luisa said, addressing the entire worried family. "But we may want to leave soon." She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I think… I think that Miguel's brother or sister wants to meet everyone."

Coco watched Manny and Benny play in the courtyard, though their Tía Gloria was helping to supervise them. She knew something was happening today. Something more than Miguel heading off with his stack of books and half the family to talk to the librarian about Ernesto and his songs. An earlier phone call caused Franco to gain a concerned expression and vanished with Abel and Rosa. But no one told her what was happening.

Or perhaps they told her and she forgot. Her memory might have improved, but it wasn't perfect.

Dante yawned and stretched next to her wheelchair. He'd been spending a lot of time with her lately. Whenever he wasn't running around with Miguel, the dog seemed to stay close to her. Perhaps he sensed her approaching demise, something that could not be denied at her age. The hairless thing with his tongue lolling out was supposed to be a spirit guide and he could probably sense such things.

Or more likely, the food she kept sneaking him had something to do with it.

Regardless, Coco wasn't ready to die quite yet. Not until she knew for certain that Ernesto's legacy was being dismantled and her papá's memory would be maintained. She told Miguel every story that she could drag up from her distant childhood. She told Abel and Rosa stories. She told Manny and Benny stories when their attention focused on her long enough. And she listened carefully every time that Miguel updated her on his research on how to undermine Ernesto de la Cruz.

She would not die until the truth was known. The Rivera stubbornness would keep her alive. It hurt being separated from her husband, just as it hurt outliving her precious daughter by so much. Though of the two, losing her baby girl hurt far worse. But she would see Julio and Victoria soon enough. She would finally get to see Papá again. She just had to wait a little longer. She couldn't leave until she was certain everything was taken care of.

Coco told Miguel that she would help him. And she intended to keep that promise as best as she could. In the meantime, she still had great-grandchildren to watch.

At least Manny and Benny weren't climbing all over the dog anymore. Dante didn't snap at them even when they pulled on his ears, but they could certainly test his patience until he was forced to hide from the young twins. Today they were leaving Dante in peace though. And he was taking advantage of it by napping in what remained of the fading light from the sunset.

Was it really that late? Where did the day go?

"Mamá Coco?" called Miguel excitedly, running into the courtyard.

Chuckling slightly, she said, "Slow down, míjo. Did your meeting go well? You've been gone all day."

"It went great. Doña López has some ideas how to get the truth out. But I've got even better news," said Miguel. He took her hands gently in his own. "Mamá is fine, but she's at the hospital with my new baby sister."

"Luisa had her baby?" Coco asked. "I thought Elena said she had another week or so."

"Well, she's a little early. She's so tiny and she already has some hair. And you should see how little her fingers are," described Miguel, words practically tumbling out of him. "And guess what her name is?"

Coco tried to remember if anyone discussed possible names. Did Luisa or Enrique mention any ideas?" She didn't remember hearing any. Would they name the baby after a family member? Rosa was named for her Tía Rosita. Perhaps they would call her "Imelda." But whatever it was must be a good name if Miguel looked so excited by it.

"I don't know, míjo," she said finally. "Why don't you tell me?"

"Her name is Socorro. They named her after you, Mamá Coco."

Well… She didn't expect that. And how else could she respond other than to smile?

If the sheet music indicates that you should play "accarezzevole," that means that it intends for the music to sound expressive and caressing. An appropriate style for a chapter with some family bonding and the arrival of a new baby.

So I've expanded the López family tree a bit once again. And I had to figure out how to handle Mexican surnames in order to do so. The middle name (1st surname) traditionally comes from the father's name (apellido paterno), and the last name (2nd surname) is the mother's maiden name (apellido materno). The Rivera family all just keeping "Rivera" as their surname or adopting it upon joining the family is due to being a rather notable family within Santa Cecilia, something that happens in certain circumstances. But that isn't the case for the López family, which follows the more tradition naming scheme. That means that in order to figure out someone's name and whether or not they would still have López as part of it, I had to nail down their exact relationships.

Helena Pérez López, as you might remember, is the Departures/Arrivals agent from the film. Esther López's mother is sisters with Helena's mother. And the not-yet-introduced Martín's father is Helena's brother. Normally that would mean that he would not have the López as part of his name, but sometimes people hyphenate the two surnames. So his full name is Martín Pérez-López Campos.

There you go. Hopefully you're enjoying this family. And I hope you're enjoying what's happening within in the Rivera family too. It seems it just got a little bigger with their newest addition.