"Dear old GSP & L, as you call it, has some influence."
It was Teresa Van Buren who, at Nim's request, arranged box seats and the facilities for Karen. When he had offered to pay, Tess told him, "Forget it! There are a few executive perks left. Enjoy them while they last."
Nim held a program for Karen to see but, after a moment, she shook her head. "I'll enjoy listening, but I always think music criticism and program notes are written by people trying to prove bow clever they are."
He chuckled. "I agree."
As the house lights dimmed and the conductor ascended the podium amid applause, Karen said softly, "Nimrod, things are different between us, aren't they?"
He was taken aback by her perception but had no time to answer before the music began.
The program was heavily Brahms. Variations on a theme by Haydn first.
Immediately after: Piano Concerto No. 2 in B-flat Major: the superb soloist was Eugene Istomin. The piano concerto was among Nim's favorites and, judging by her rapt attention, Karen's too. During the third movement with its moving, haunting cello melody, he reached out, putting a hand over one of Karen's. As she turned her head, he saw her eyes were wet with tears.
At last the music finished to sustained applause in which Nim joined
"Please! For both of us," Karen urged him-and house lights went up for the intermission.
While others left their seats to promenade, Nim and Karen remained where they were. Both were briefly silent, then she said, "If you like, you can answer my question now."
He had no need to ask which question and, sighing, said, "I suppose nothing ever stays the same."
"We're foolish if we expect it to," Karen acknowledged, "and I want you to know I never did. Oh, it's nice to dream sometimes, to long for the impossible and want everything good to last, but one thing I've learned is to be a realist. Be honest with me, Nimrod. What happened? What changed between last time and now?"
It was then he told her, Told her about Ruth, the invading malignancy which threatened her life, and how-because of it-she and Nim had found their way again, which for a while they had lost.
Karen listened in silence. Then she said, "I knew the moment I saw you tonight that there was something different, something important and personal. Now that I know why, I'm glad for you in one way, and sad-of course-in another, especially for your wife."
"We may get lucky," he said.
"I hope so. Some people do."
The orchestra was filing in for the concert's second half. Others in the audience were resuming their seats.
Karen said quietly, "We mustn't be lovers aw more, you and me. It wouldn't be fair, or right. But I hope we'll go on being friends, and that sometimes I'll see you."
He touched her hand again, and managed to say, "Friends, always," before the music started.
* * *
On the homeward journey they were quieter than when they came.
Josie, too, seemed to sense the change, and said little. She had met them outside with Humperdinck, having been to visit friends while Nim and Karen were in the Palace of Arts.
After a while, again turning around in the front seat to face Karen, Nim said, "Earlier on, you told me you were worried about your father. You didn't want to talk about it. Do you now?"
"I don't mind," Karen said. "Except there isn't a lot to tell. I do know Daddy is in some kind of trouble-financial, I think; he's dropped hints, but won't tell me exactly what. It does mean, though, I won't have Humperdinck much longer."
Nim was shocked. "Why?"
“The monthly payments are too much for my parents. I think I told you Daddy's bank wouldn't lend the money, so he went to a finance company and the interest rate was higher. I suppose that, and business things, have crowded in."
"Look," Nim said, "I'd like to help .
"No! I said once before I won't ever take money from you, Nimrod, and I meant it. You have your own family to look after. Besides, much as I love Humperdinck, I managed without a van before and can do so again. It's Daddy I'm concerned about."
"I really wish," Nim told her, "there were something I could do."
"Stay my friend, Nimrod. It's all I ask."
They said good night-with a gentle kiss, not passionate anymore outside Karen's apartment building. At her suggestion, because she said she was tired, he did not go up, but walked sadly to his car, parked a block away.
12
In the last week of March, the dramatic, suddenly-erupting oil crisis overshadowed all else, dominating national and international news.
"It's like imminent war," someone observed at a GSP & L management committee meeting. "You keep thinking it won't happen, so that everything's unreal until the guns start firing."
There was nothing unreal about the OPEC nations' unanimous decision. Members of OPEC-the Arab countries and Iran, Venezuela, Indonesia, Nigeria-bad decreed a few days earlier: After tankers on the high seas and in United States ports had off-loaded their cargoes, no more oil would be dispatched to the U.S. until the dispute over payment had been resolved.
The OPEC nations claimed to have ample dollar reserves with which to sit out their embargo, reserves far greater, they pointed out, than U.S. stockpiles of oil.
"Unfortunately, too goddam true," a travel-weary Secretary of State snapped at Washington reporters in an undiplomatic, unguarded moment.
Within Golden State Power & Light, as elsewhere throughout the country, urgent policy decisions were being made. In GSP & L's bailiwick the question was no longer "if" there would be widespread temporary blackouts, but "bow soon" and to what extent.
The two previous years of drought in California and the light winter snowfall in the Sierra Nevada were compounding the problem because hydroelectric reserves were significantly less than usual. Nim, whose role as vice president, planning, placed him at the center of activity, became engaged in a hectic succession of conferences, their purpose to review emergency plans and decide priorities. Meanwhile, some national and state priorities had already been decreed. The President ordered immediate gasoline rationing, and a standby coupon scheme already "on the shelf" was to be activated within days.
Additionally, all sales of gasoline were forbidden from Friday nights to Monday mornings.
Also emanating from Washington was an edict halting all major sporting events and other attractions which produced large crowds, and closing national parks. The objective was to reduce unnecessary travel, especially by automobile. Theaters and movie houses, it was stated, might have to be closed later.
All public utilities using oil were ordered to begin around-the-clock "brownouts" by reducing their voltages five percent.
Public utilities which produced electricity by burning coal-principally in the central United States-were instructed to transmit as much power as they could spare to the East and West Coasts, which would be hardest hit by the oil embargo, and where massive umemployment was expected because of power-short plants and businesses. The scheme was labeled "Coal by Wire." However, its effect would be limited, in part because the central U.S. needed most of its electricity for local use, and also because long distance transmission lines were few in number.
Schools in many areas were being ordered to close now, and reopen in the summer when their heating and lighting needs would be far less.
Curbs on air travel were being worked out and would shortly be announced.
More drastic steps, the public was warned-including three- or even four-day weekends-were likely if the oil situation failed to improve.
Accompanying all official measures were pleas for voluntary conservation of energy in all its forms.
At Golden State Power & Light, every discussion was overshadowed by the knowledge that the utility's own stored oil was sufficient for only thirty days of normal operation.
Since some new oil, from tankers now en route, would still be coming in, it was decided that "rolling blackouts" would be delayed until the second week of May. Then, initially, the electricity cutoffs would be for three hours each day, after which more draconian measures might be needed.
But even the earliest power cuts, it was realized, would be disruptive, and damaging to the state's economy. Nim knew bow grim the situation was; so did others directly intervened. But the general public, Nim believed, had still not grasped, or perhaps didn't want to, the full significance of what was happening.