author's note. Sorry, short chapter! Lots of exposition needs to be done here. Plenty of important bits to cover!
"Well, Gibb, I guess this is goodbye."
Mr. Gibson looked at her strangely. "You're leaving the Register?"
Kit smiled. "I don't have much choice, do I? No more war means no more War Desk."
In his brusque manner, he was almost affectionate. "You, Kittredge, can stick around as long as you want."
"Look at it," Kit breathed, home from her day at the Sports Desk. "It's a thing of beauty."
"Isn't it just?" Charlie agreed. "Picked it up today at the Veteran's Hospital." He held his new leg almost reverently in his hands.
"It's all shiny," Kit added.
"I'm sure it won't be for long," Charlie said. "I intend to put it to good use."
"I think this calls for cake," Mother said, and departed for the kitchen. She always felt better when she was baking something - especially now that the rationing was over.
"Why don't you put it on?" Kit suggested. "No, wait." Already an idea was forming in her mind. "Let me go get my camera."
"Ruthie Smithens." Kit greeted her old friend warmly. It was true that they weren't as close as they had once been, but she was always glad to see her.
"Ruth Farmer," Ruthie corrected. Marriage certainly seemed to agree with Ruthie - her eyes glowed like jewels above the fur collar of her coat. "It's so good to see you again."
"What are you doing in town, anyway?"
"We're just passing through on our way to California. Doug is starting a new job in Los Angeles," she explained. "But we wanted to spend Christmas with Mother and Dad before we depart for the land of perpetual sunshine. And wanted to catch up with old friends."
"Well, here I am," Kit said happily. "Won't you come sit down? There's cake."
"So, how is everyone?" Ruthie asked a few minutes later, sipping a cup of coffee. "Are your parents still keeping boarders?"
"They've finally cleared all out," Kit said. "After all these years, Mother doesn't quite know what to do with herself. But I think it was wearing her down, at the end. And Dad's gone into business with an old friend of his. Now that the manufacturers are building cars again, they're starting a dealership."
"Oh, that's great! And how's Charlie doing?"
"He's still working out the kinks with the new leg, but I've never seen him happier. He's playing piano at a jazz club downtown. Mr. Peck - one of our old boarders - got him the job. And he's seeing a girl named Doreen - she's a singer at the club. She's lovely."
"Good for him." Ruthie set down her coffee cup. "I saw that you're still with the newspaper."
"Yes, I'm covering sports, and I write the occasional interest piece."
"We read your series on the wounded veterans. It made me cry," Ruthie admitted. "And Doug said you're one of the few that's gotten it right."
"I'm glad to hear that."
"Anyway, I can't stay long. I've got to go see Stirling."
"Oh?" Kit replied coolly. "He's still in town?"
Ruthie looked at her gently, almost pityingly. "You haven't heard, then?" What she said next made Kit feel as though she had been socked in the gut. "Mrs. Howard wrote to me. Kit, honey… he's dying."