A/N: This is the final chapter in Triptych and it's from Celia's POV. You may remember Ranger's older sister from Fugue:

My older sister Celia was a Latina wunderkind. She had graduated from high school at 17, and then had entered medical school at Northwestern after only two years of undergraduate work. After a neurology fellowship in Boston, she had joined the School of Medicine faculty at Columbia. She had a busy clinical practice and a Department of Defense grant to study treatment of post-traumatic brain injury. Her work was yielding real benefit for soldiers returning from Iraq and Afghanistan … a fact about which she frequently reminded me. It was rumored that Celia was on track to be youngest department head in Columbia history. It wasn't surprising really… Celia loved to be in charge.

Thank you to everyone who is reading along. I wasn't sure anyone would still be interested since I posted Fugue so many months ago.

I'm still grateful to Dog in the Manger for her guidance and her beta skills. All mistakes are mine.

Celia's POV

The Newark Club was packed with family and friends who had turned out to help my mother celebrate her sixtieth birthday. Maybe, I had been exaggerating when I told Carlos that our father had invited most of Newark and at least half of Miami to the party. Looking around though, it seemed, I wasn't too far off.

I sat alone at a table at the edge of the dance floor, tapping my foot in time to the music and trying to soak up some of the happiness of the party. It was practically a miracle that all of the Mañoso children and grandchildren were in one place tonight. Experience had taught me that Carlos was likely to get called away at the last minute on one of his super, top-secret government missions. I was pleasantly surprised, when he had shown up right on time with Stephanie on his arm. And he was smiling.

I took a sip from my glass, letting my gaze wander around the crowded room. It was a rare treat to see Selena in a public place. She had lost her usual melancholy look and was practically radiant in the blue cocktail dress that Steph and I had convinced her to buy. From where I was sitting, it looked as if she were having a good time tormenting Les. Before I could move closer to confirm my suspicions, I felt a familiar hand on my bare shoulder.

"Sparkling water, Hija?" my father said, gesturing to my glass. "Let me get you a glass of champagne, before the toasts begin."

"Thanks, but I better not, Papa," I said with a smile, patting a small, gold evening bag on the table in front of me. The digital pager tucked inside had been mercifully silent tonight, but these things were difficult to predict. "I'm on call tonight."

My father made a disapproving noise as he sat down next to me. "Call? Someone else at the hospital couldn't take call for one night, so you could just enjoy your mother's birthday party?"

"I'm not on call for the hospital tonight," I responded. "I'm on call for the war."

I was the principal investigator for Department of Defense-funded study designed to evaluate a new treatment for brain-injured soldiers. It was important that the treatment begin as soon as possible, and someone always need to be available to talk to medics in the field.

With a heavy sigh, Papa shifted uncomfortably in his chair. I'd like to think the sigh was meant for the war and not me, but I couldn't be sure.

"You planned a wonderful birthday party, Papa," I told him sincerely, hoping to distract him from his disapproval of my work schedule. "Were you disappointed that Mama figured out the surprise?"

My father sighed again, but this time he smiled at me indulgently. "You mother is an amazing woman. You know that, don't you?"

I let go of a tiny bit of the tension I was feeling. Tonight was not the night to argue with my father, and my mother was a safe topic. Amazing didn't begin to describe Maria Mañoso.

"Did one of her sisters spill the beans?" My mother had four sisters, and they were as thick as thieves. I could see how one of them could have let a little detail about the party slip.

"No, nothing like that." My father relaxed, settling in to tell me the story.

"I had everything so well planned. The invitations were mailed from RangeMan Miami, and Antonio handled the RSVPs. I arranged my schedule so that I was only away from home for a short time each day to meet with the caterer, the band, the florist… "

My father let his voice trail off, and I felt a little guilty that I hadn't offered more help with the party planning. Things had been so busy at work and then Tank had called about Stephanie… I took another sip of water, meaning to collect my thoughts and apologize, but my father spoke first.

"Then one day, two weeks ago, after your mother had served me a lovely dinner, she gave me a serious look and told me that we needed to talk."

Uh oh, I thought. In my experience, those words were never a good sign, but Papa was smiling.

"Do you know what she said to me?"

I shook my head at my Papa. Honestly, with my mom, there was no telling.

"She told me that she loved me, but asked me why I felt like things needed to change."

"Change?"

"For more than forty years, we'd done everything together. We'd raised our children, built a business, handled every challenge that came our way—"

"We provided you with a few of those." I reached out and squeezed his hand.

"You think, Hija?" My father rolled his eyes at me. "She reminded me that we had never kept secrets from one another and wondered why I wanted to start keeping secrets now."

"So you told her about the party," I surmised, studying my father's face for a moment. At times like this, I was in awe of how much my parents still loved one another after more than forty years of marriage, and couldn't help but wonder about the importance of the 'no secrets from one you love' rule. I suspected that both Carlos and I would have done well to learn that lesson from our parents. Maybe, Carlos finally had.

Papa was staring at me with concern, as I forced a half smile and tried to pull myself out of the gloomy reverie I had fallen into.

"A husband and wife should be a team, Celia." All traces of a smile had disappeared from my father's face.

I smoothed away imaginary wrinkles from my yellow silk dress and tried to protest. I heard my father's words, but more importantly, I heard what he implied. "Julio wanted to be here, Papa. The lectureship at Berkley was a huge honor, and he couldn't do anything about the timing." I was pretty sure most of that was the truth. The lectureship was quite an honor, and my husband had made it clear that it was important to his career.

The band started another song, and the familiar words almost drowned out my father's snort of disapproval.

You are so beautiful ... to me, can't you see?

"We danced to this song at your wedding," my father whispered softly, pulling me to my feet, "it's been way too long, since I danced with you."

I didn't even think about protesting. Dancing was a good reason not to continue the conversation my father was pushing. Now, I had a good excuse to just put my head on his shoulder and think about happier times. But when Papa cleared his throat a couple of moments later, I worried that maybe I wasn't off the hook yet.

"Your mother is still in shock over her birthday gift. It's much too extravagant."

I shrugged a little, pleased at the change in topic. "A cruise to the Galapagos is one of things on her bucket list. We all chipped in." All of the Mañoso children understood the sacrifices that our parents had made for us, when we were growing up. Now, it was our turn to spoil them a little, if we could.

"Having her granddaughter here is gift enough," he said softly.

"Carlos arranged it," I answered noncommittally. Rachel still doesn't talk to me, I added silently. "I think Stephanie probably helped. I understand she and Julie stayed in contact after the, um, incident last year." Every week, they chatted by email, and occasionally, they talked by phone. Even when she was living with the cop, and Carlos was off doing whatever in the hell he does, Steph was taking care of his daughter.

"She's good for him," my father observed.

Before I answered, I thought about the woman who had introduced herself to me as Stephanie Mañoso. "They're good for each other," I answered simply.

As my father and I danced, I caught sight of Stephanie and Carlos at the edge of the dance floor, her arms around his neck, and her head on his shoulder. He had one arm wrapped tightly around her waist, while the other hand gently caressed her hip. They were just across the room, and yet, I was willing to bet they were a million miles away.

That's why it was a shock, when Stephanie lifted her head, caught my eye, and smiled broadly at me, understanding dawning in her eyes.

She raised up on her toes just enough to whisper in Carlos' ear. When I saw her nod to my father and me and then glance at Julie, I knew what she was saying. Dance with your daughter.

Julie looked thrilled, when her father held out his arms to her. When she reached him, she tentatively placed her hands on her Carlos' shoulders, while he placed his hands at her waist. They swayed stiffly for several minutes, my brother smiling and talking to Julie the whole time. At the song ended, Julie wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight hug, burying her face in his broad chest. Carlos looked surprised for a moment, then… happy. As he planted a kiss on the top of Julie's head, he looked utterly content, like he had everything in the world a man could possibly wish for.

When the band started up again, this time with a pulsing beat, I saw my brother grin. Looks like it was time for my niece to learn to salsa.

"Another dance, Hija?" my father asked me, his eyes twinkling. "I'll take it easy so you can keep up."

He meant it as a joke, but I wasn't sure I could keep up. All the Mañoso men had mad dancing skills, and I was out of practice. I couldn't remember the last time Julio and I had been out to a club.

"Time for you to find Mama. You deserve a worthy partner for this song." That, and I really needed to check my pager, not that I was going to admit it to my father.

I didn't see my niece or Stephanie again until after the toasts were completed and the party was winding down. Abuela and I had retreated to a small alcove just outside the main ballroom. Suddenly, Tank appeared, Steph at his side and a sleepy Julie cradled in his arms. He caught Abuela's eye, silently asking permission, then he turned to Steph.

"He has a couple of things to take care of and then we'll head for home. Do you want to wait here with Abuela and Celia?"

Steph nodded, sinking down onto the small couch opposite Abuela and me, and Tank deposited Julie next to her.

Abuela looked fondly at her great-granddaughter, "Nieta, it is surely past your bed time."

Julie looked as if she wanted to protest, but a yawn escaped her. She put her head down in Steph's lap and pulled her legs up to rest on the sofa.

"I wish I could have a bedtime story." She looked up at Steph hopefully. When Julie had first entered the ballroom tonight, I was struck by how grown up she looked. Now, I was reminded that, in many ways, she was still a little girl.

Steph sighed. "I'm not very good with bedtime stories, Jules. Sometimes, I read to my nieces at bedtime, but we don't have any books here."

"I have an idea!" Julie suddenly looked less tired. "Abuela, will you teach Steph a Cuban bedtime story?"

"A Cuban bedtime story?" Abuela repeated thoughtfully.

"Like the ones I used to hear, when I was a baby, you know, before..." Julie's voice trailed off uncertainly, but it was easy for me to fill in the blanks. Before her Cuban father came home from saving the world. Before her parents divorced. Before her Cuban family disappeared from her life. There was no way she could remember the stories I whispered as I rocked her to sleep. Maybe they taught Cuban folk stories in Miami schools?

"Did you have a particular story in mind, Nieta?"

"The story about Martina is my favorite," Julie said shyly, "if you remember that one.

Abuela looked serious for a moment, as if she was considering Julie's request. Julie had the most innocent, angelic look on her face, as she smiled at her great-grandmother. This was the female version of the patented Mañoso "blank" face. Steph seemed charmed by it, and she stroked Julie's long, dark hair in an unexpectedly maternal fashion. The Mañoso women weren't fooled though, at least I wasn't. I understood that Julie wasn't choosing a story at random but she wanted, perhaps needed, Steph to hear this particular story.

Abuela's eyes sparkled, when she said, "Yes, I think I remember enough to tell that story." Nope, Julie wasn't fooling her either.

Abuela shifted in her chair a bit, folding her hands in her lap as she began the story.

Once upon a time in Havana, there lived a beautiful cucaracha named Martina.

"Cucaracha?" Steph asked uncertainly. She seemed to recognize the word, but from the look on her face, she thought she'd misunderstood.

"Sí, Estephania. Martina was a beautiful cockroach."

"The most beautiful in all of Havana," Julie chimed in.

The time had come from Martina to marry and her whole family wanted to help her find a husband.

"Poor Martina," muttered Stephanie. "This is going to end badly."

Her mother gave her a beautiful comb for hair. Her sister made her a beautiful lace shawl. But instead of a gift, her grandmother gave her un consejo incredible.

"Some shocking advice," Steph translated.

"Exactly!" Julie beamed at Steph. "You've been studying hard. I can tell."

Abuela sent Steph an approving glance before she continued with the story.

"You can't be serious!" Martina exclaimed. She stood in front of her abuela, shaking her head in disbelief.

"You are beautiful, and there will be many suitors, who will seek your hand in marriage. Choosing the right one could be tricky," her abuela explained.

"But explain to me how spilling coffee on the shoes of a potential suitor will help me choose the best husband?"

Her abuela smiled. "He will be angry! Then you will know how he will treat you, when he loses his temper. You will see, Martina. The Coffee Test never fails."

"I wish, I had known about the Coffee Test," Stephanie said, a sad look on her face. "I bet it will save Martina a lot of heartache."

Abuela reached out and patted Stephanie's knee kindly.

Martina wasn't so sure about the Coffee Test, but her abuela had never steered her wrong. So she moved to a small table in her family's garden, where she would greet potential suitors. It wasn't long before the first one arrived.

"¡Que bonita cucaracha!" crowed Don Gallo, the rooster.

As he strutted around the garden, the sunlight glinted off his feathers. Gold. Scarlet. Martina couldn't help but notice his good looks.

"I will be even more beautiful with you on my wing," he boasted.

"Coffee, Señor?" asked Martina, staring guiltily at his shiny wingtips just before she tipped up the coffee cup.

Julie squealed excitedly. "This is going to be good! What do you think happened, Steph?"

Don Gallo squawked in anger, as the steaming brown liquid hit his shoes. "Clumsy cockroach! You'll have to learn better manners when you are my wife!"

Such a charming proposal," muttered Martina. "I'm afraid I cannot accept." The rooster stalked away, leaving wet coffee footprints on the garden path.

"Good riddance. I can say from experience that would have been a disaster." Stephanie looked sad. Julie laced her fingers with Stephanie's and gave them a reassuring squeeze, as Abuela resumed her story.

It wasn't long before the next suitor arrived. Martina could smell him before she could see him. Señor Cerdo was the town sheriff.

"No kidding?" Stephanie interjected.

Abuela nodded. He was a powerful man in Havana and was considered quite the catch… but he also had a powerful smell. Martina found it difficult to focus as her eyes began to water. "Señor Cerdo must be thirsty," reminded abuela. Martina pressed the corner of her lace shawl to her nose and reached for a cup and saucer.

"Buenas tardes, Señor. Café?"

"Such an auspicious beginning to our relationship!" Senor Cerdo oinked. "We've not yet said our vows, and you are already taking care of me. Perhaps you have prepared a bit of cake to go with the coffee?"

Martina shook her head as she filled the coffee cup to the brim. "Lo siento, Senor. I'm sorry. No cake but I have plenty of coffee-"

When the café cubano splashed on his loafers, Don Cerdo squealed like a stuck pig. Immediately, there was waving of arms and stomping of feet—

"That sounds about right," Steph muttered, nodding her head.

"Calm yourself, Don Cerdo," Martina said wearily. "I'll help you clean it up."

But the pig was not to be pacified. "There will be no end to the cleaning, when you're my wife!"

"Can you believe that guy?" Julie asked, her head resting in Steph's lap. "He wants a housekeeper and not a wife."

"Oh yeah, I can believe it," Steph nodded her head sadly. "Run, Martina. Run far away."

Martina was ready to give up. Perhaps she wasn't meant to marry. Before she could throw up her hands in despair, her grandmother pointed to a figure at the edge of the garden, standing quietly in the shade of the hibiscus bush. Martina took one look and felt an unfamiliar but not unpleasant tingle on the back of her neck. "What about him?" her abuela asked.

"Who do you think it was, Steph?" Julie interrupted.

"It was a black cat," said Stephanie dreamily. "A cat that looked just like a black panther with silky soft fur."

Julie looked confused. "I thought it was a mouse," she said.

"Not a mouse," Steph shook her head vehemently, "it can't be."

"It could be a cat," Abuela said seriously. "Every family tells a slightly different version of the tale. The important part of the story is that he stepped out of the shadows and talked to Martina."

"Hola, Martina, cucaracha hermosa."

"You think I am beautiful, Señor?" asked Martina shyly.

"I can see that you are beautiful on the outside, Señorita. But from the stories I hear of your kind heart, I know you are beautiful on the inside too."

"Aww," said Steph. "That's sweet."

"He might sound sweet, but he still has to pass the test," Julie replied. "Her abuela's not to going to let him off the hook."

"Offer your guest some coffee, Martina!" abuela said firmly.

Martina gasped, "No, por favor, abuela, surely Señor Gato doesn't want coffee at this time of day."

"Can you guess what happens next, Steph?" Julie was so excited that the question came out like a squeal.

"She blew up his Boxster, and he didn't get the least big angry?"

Abuela's eyes widened, and she tugged the corner of her shawl up to hide the wide smile that crossed her face.

"No silly! He spilled his coffee on her shoes! He had a Cuban grandmother too! He knew the test, and guess what? Martina didn't get the least bit angry. She just laughed. And that's how they figured out they were meant to be together."

"So Martina found her true love," Stephanie said softly. "All along, I guess I just needed a Cuban grandmother."

"A Cuban family," whispered Julie fiercely, wrapping her arms around Steph's neck in a hug. "You need a whole Cuban family."

From where I was sitting, it looked as if Steph had found one.

A/N: Martina the beautiful cockroach is really a Cuban folktale. I was inspired by the version told by Carmen Agra Deedy. This beautiful storybook is the kind that I imagine Steph and Ranger would read to their children, but that is another story!