"Speak up! I can't hear you!"

Kit pressed her finger in the opposite ear and shouted into the telephone receiver to be heard above the din. "I said, you've got to come down here, Charlie! It's the biggest crowd I've ever seen!" Which was true - if she'd thought V-E day was a celebration, V-J day was ten times grander. Now the war was really over. All the boys could come home.

Kit could barely make out her brother's response. "Don't start without me, Squirt!"

By the time Charlie arrived, the party had moved downstairs. The office was eerily quiet - she'd never seen it totally devoid of life, the way it was today - when Kit heard the familiar thump of crutches behind her. "Sorry it took me so long to get down here," Charlie apologized. "The entire population of Cincinnati is packed inside Union Station, and the rest of Ohio is out in the streets. I hope you didn't miss any fun because of me."

"It's all right." Kit stood up from the War News desk - what would they call it now? Would there even be a War News desk? - and faced him. "Oh! You wore your uniform," she added with some surprise.

"It just seemed right," Charlie said quietly. "A way to honor the men I lost."

Tears blurred Kit's eyes, so she distracted herself by brushing an imaginary piece of lint from Charlie's shoulder. "I think you look nice," she said. "And it's a lovely gesture."

Mr. Gibson burst into the office with two bottles of champagne in his hands, and a young woman Kit didn't know draped around his neck. "There you are, Kittredge!" he shouted; Kit suspected he'd been sampling the toasts already. "Everyone's looking for you! Can't have a party without my best War Desk girl! Come downstairs!" Then he noticed Charlie, standing next to Kit with a shy smile on his face, and Gibbs' voice dropped almost to an indoor level. He extended a hand to Charlie. "Glad to see you, son," he said seriously, and then was off again. "Champagne, Kittredge!" Gibbs shouted, and the girl giggled.

Kit laughed. "I guess we'd better go, huh?"

Charlie started off on his crutches. "Have you ever had champagne before, Squirt?"

Kit elbowed her brother in the side - gently, so as not to knock him off balance. "It's Margaret."

Charlie laughed. "Oh, you are going to love it."

It really was the most massive party Kit had ever seen. New Year's Eve times a thousand. Spilling out from the newspaper offices, and down the streets in both directions, and as far as the eye can see, were people, shoulder to shoulder, some shouting for joy, some streaming with tears, and a dusting of ticker-tape like snow covered the whole raucous scene. Kit had to fight not to get separated from Charlie, whom she saw being kissed by at least ten different women.

It was well after two in the morning when they finally found seats on a train home - and downtown, the party was still going strong. But Kit, who'd had only two glasses of champagne (okay, two and a half) but was somewhat tipsy, knew she still had to report to work in the morning. Charlie leaned his head against the back of the seat; physical and emotional strain showed on his face, but he looked happy, too. "Thanks for calling me, Kit," he said, for once not incurring her wrath by calling her 'Squirt.' "That was really something."

"It'll be something to tell your children and grandchildren about," Kit added quite seriously. "I'll save us a couple of copies of the morning Register. I'm sure Mother and Dad will want one too."

"So," Charlie stated, turning towards her, "I could have sworn I saw an old friend of ours downtown."

"Who's that?"

"Stirling Howard."

The train lurched, and Kit's stomach made a similar motion - whether it was the effects of the alcohol or the subject matter, she did not know. "It… it may have been him. He works at a firm downtown, last I heard."

"Well, maybe it wasn't. Did you happen to catch a glimpse?"

Kit looked down at her hands, feeling entirely sober now. "I didn't notice. It may have been him… I didn't see."

"Hey." Charlie gently pulled up her chin, so that she was forced to look at him. "Why am I getting the feeling that's not a name you wanted to hear?"

"He…" Kit began, but as the train rounded a corner, the young woman in the aisle nearly fell into Kit's lap. As she giggled her apology - leading Kit to conclude that she'd had more than two glasses of champagne - Kit made her excuse. "Maybe this isn't the best time to talk about it, huh?"

"I guess not." Charlie slung an arm around his little sister's shoulder, and within a few minutes the rocking of the train - drunken revelers or no drunken revelers - had actually lulled her to sleep.