Nim's face, hands and clothing had been black with coal dust and, after the stop at the hospital, he had been driven to Thurston's home, where Nim shed his suit-the only one he had brought-and soaked in a hot bath. Afterward, and wearing Thurston's robe, be had been introduced to Daphne, who competently put a fresh dressing and bandage on his hand. Daphne, Nim learned, was a qualified nurse and also a recent divorcee. The second condition was the reason for her current getaway-from-it-all visit to her sister.

Ursula wiped her eyes with a wisp of handkerchief, then said practically, "Well, now we know there's a happy ending, we can all feel better." She crossed the room to Nim and impulsively bugged and kissed him. "There!-that's instead of lighting candles."

"Hey!" Daphne said. "Can anybody do that?"

Nim grinned. "You bet!"

She promptly kissed him. Her lips were full and warm; he liked the feel of them, and a momentary fragrance which came and then was gone.

Daphne announced, "That's what you get for being a bloody hero, like it or not."

"That part," Nim said, "I like."

"What we all need now," Ursula said, "is a big dose of the jollies." She addressed her husband. "Thurs, what are our plans tonight?"

He beamed. "I'm glad you asked. We're dining and dancing. With my usual brilliant forethought I reserved a table for four at the San Marco Room of the Brown Palace."

"Sounds marvelous," Daphne said. "Can we get a baby-sitter for Keith?"

"Not to worry," Ursula assured her. "I'll arrange it."

"And I'm going dancing," Nim declared, "whether my suit comes back or not."

The music-from a lively, talented combo-plus wine and an excellent dinner, mellowed them all. Earlier, Nim's suit had been returned, seeming none the worse for its sojourn on the coal conveyor. Simultaneously with the cleaners' delivery, a reporter and photographer from the Dewer Post arrived, wanting an interview, and photographs of Nim. A little reluctantly, he obliged.

Soon after, with Nim and Daphne wedged tightly into the back of Thurston's Pinto, Daphne squeezed his arm. "I think you're rather super," she whispered. "The way you do things, and handle yourself, and it's nice you're modest, too."

Not knowing what to say, be took her hand and continued holding it, already wondering what the later portion of the evening might bring.

Now, dinner was over. Nim and Daphne had danced with each other several times, with an increasing closeness to which Daphne made clear she had no objection.

Once, when the two of them were at the table together, and Thurston and Ursula were dancing, he inquired what had gone wrong with Daphne's marriage.

With the frankness which seemed characteristic of both sisters she answered, "My husband was older than I am. He didn't like sex much, and most of the time couldn't get it up. There were other things wrong, but that was the main one."

"I assume that was not your problem."

She threw back her head and laughed. "How did you guess?"

"But you did have a child?"

"Yes. That was one of the times we managed. Almost the only one. Anyway, I'm glad I have Keith. He's almost two and I love him dearly. By the way, Keith and I are sharing a room, but he's a sound sleeper."

"All the same," Nim said, "I won't come into his room."

"Fair enough. Just leave your door ajar. It's down the hall from mine."

When, for a change, Nim danced with Ursula she confided, "I love having Daphne here; we've always been close. The one thing I envy her, though, is having little Keith."

Nim asked, "You and Thurs haven't wanted children?"

"We both did. Still do. But we can't have them." Ursula's voice was clipped, as if she wished she hadn't brought up the subject, and he left it at that.

But later, when the sisters excused themselves and left the table temporarily, Thurston said, "I understand Ursula told you we can't have kids."

"Yes"

"Did she tell you why?"

Nim shook his head.

"The trouble's with me, not Ursula. We both had medical tests, lots of 'em. It seems my pistol will cock and fire, but I feed it only blanks. And I'll never have live bullets, so the doctors tell me."

"I'm sorry."

Thurston shrugged. "You can't have everything, I guess, and we've got a lot of other things going, Ursula and f." He added, "We considered adopting, but neither of us is sure about that."

When the women returned they all drank more wine, then danced again.

While they were dancing, Daphne murmured in Nim's ear, "Did I tell you I rather fancy you?"

His arms tightened around her in response. He hoped it would not be too long before they went back to the house.

They had returned an hour and a half ago. Thurston had driven the baby-sitter home, then all of them sat in the kitchen and talked while Ursula made tea, with Daphne helping. After that they said good night and went to bed. Now, Nim was almost asleep.

A sound aroused him- a creek, unmistakably the bedroom door opening fully, though he had left it ajar as Daphne told him. It was followed by another creak, then the click of a latch as the door closed. Nim lifted his head and strained to see in the darkness but couldn't.

He heard a soft pad of feet and the rustle of a garment; he guessed it was being removed. Then the bedclothes were eased back and a warm, soft, naked body slid in beside him. Arms reached out. In the darkness lips-exciting, welcoming-found his own. The kiss was long; it quickly grew passionate. As limbs pressed closely, Nim's blood surged, he became erect and urgent. His hands began moving gently and he sighed a mixture of sensual pleasure and contentment.

He whispered, "Daphne darling, all day I've been wanting this to happen.

He heard a gurgle of soft laughter. A finger reached out, groping for his lips to bridge them, cautioning silence. A low voice warned, "Shut up, you idiot! It isn't Daphne. I'm Ursula."

Shocked, Nim released himself and sat upright. His inclination was to leap from the bed. A hand restrained him.

"Listen to me," Ursula said urgently and softly. "I want a baby. And next to Thurs, who can't give me one-and I know he told you about that- I'd rather have it by you Nim, than anyone else I know."

He protested, "I can't do it, Ursula. Not to Thurs."

"Yes you can, because Thurs knows I'm here, and why."

"And Thurs doesn't mind?" Nim's voice was unbelieving.

"I swear to you, no. We both want a child. We both decided this is the best way." Again the soft laugh. "Daphne minds, though. She's mad as hell at me. She wanted you herself."

Conflicting emotions swirled within Nim. Then the humor of the situation got to him and he laughed.

"That's more like it," Ursula said. She pulled him toward her and he stopped resisting as their arms clasped each other again.

She whispered, "It's the right time of the month. I know it can happen. Oh, Nim dear, help me make a baby! I want one so."

What had he ever done, be wondered, to deserve all the exotic things that happened to him?

He whispered back, "Okay, I'll do my best." As they kissed and he became erect again, he asked impishly, "Do you think it's all right if I enjoy it?"

Instead of answering she held him tighter, their breathing quickened, and she cried out softly with pleasure as he caressed, then entered her.

They made love repeatedly and gloriously, Nim finding that his bandaged left hand impeded him not at all. At last, be fell asleep. When he awoke, daylight was beginning and Ursula had gone.

He decided to go back to sleep. Then, once more his bedroom door opened and a figure in a pale pink negligee slipped in. "I'll be damned," Daphne said as she took the negligee off, "if I'm going to be left out altogether. Move over, Nim, and I hope you have some energy left."

Together, happily, they discovered he had.

Nim's return flight to the West Coast, again with United, was in late afternoon. Thurston drove him to the airport; Ursula and Daphne came along, Daphne bringing her small son, Keith. Though conversation during the drive was friendly and relaxed, nothing was said about the happenings of the night. Nim kissed both sisters goodbye at the car. While the women waited, Thurston accompanied Nim into the terminal.

At the passenger security checkpoint they stopped to shake hands. Nim said, "I appreciate everything, Thurs."

"Me too. And good luck tomorrow and the other days at the hearings."

"Thanks. We'll need it all."

Still clasping Nim's band, Thurston seemed to hesitate, then said, "In case you're wondering about anything, I'd like to tell you there are things a man does because he has to, and because it's the best out of limited choices. Something else: there are friends and exceptional friends. You are one of the second kind, Nim. You always will be, so let's never lose touch."

Turning away toward the aircraft boarding ramp, Nim discovered that his eyes were moist.

A few minutes later, as he settled into his first-class seat for the homeward journey, a friendly air hostess inquired, "Sir, what will you have to drink after takeoff?"

"Champagne," he told her, smiling. Quite clearly, he decided, nothing else would match his successful weekend.

12.

The young, presiding commissioner tapped lightly with his gavel.

"Before the examination of this witness begins, I believe it would be in order to commend him for his conduct two days ago when his prompt action and courage saved the life of a public utility employee in another state."

In the hearing room there was scattered applause.

Nim acknowledged, with some embarrassment, "Thank you, sir."

Until this morning he had assumed that news reports of the drama on the conveyor belt would be confined to Dewer. Therefore be had been surprised to find himself the subject of an Associated Press wire story, featured prominently in today's Chronicle-West. The report was unfortunate because it drew attention to his visit to the coal-generating plant and Nim wondered what use, if any, the opposition forces would make of this knowledge.

As on previous hearing days, the oak-paneled chamber was occupied by commission staff, counsel for various parties, waiting witnesses, officials of interested groups, press reporters, as well as a sizable contingent of the public-the last composed mainly of opposition supporters.

Again, on the bench, the same presiding commissioner was flanked by the elderly administrative law judge.

Among those in the bearing room whom Nim recognized were Laura Bo Carmichael and Roderick Pritchett, representing the Sequoia Club; Davey Birdsong of p & lfp, his outsize figure garbed as usual in shabby jeans and open-necked shirt; and, at the press table, Nancy Molineaux, smartly dressed and aloof.

Nim had already been sworn, agreeing to "tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth." Now, the utility's portly general counsel, Oscar O'Brien, on his feet and facing the bench, would lead him through his testimony.

"Mr. Goldman," O'Brien began, as they had rehearsed, "please 1describe the circumstances and studies which lead you to believe that the proposal, now being submitted to this commission, is necessary and in the public interest."

Nim settled himself in the witness chair, aware that his presentation would be long and arduous.

"The studies of Golden State Power & Light," he began, "supplemented by those of government agencies, estimate that California's growth by the middle of the next decade, both of population and industry, will substantially exceed the national average. I will deal with specifics later. Parallel with that growth will be an escalating demand for electric power, greater by far than present generating capacities. It is to meet this demand that . . ."

Nim strove to keep his tone conversational and easy, to hold the interest of those listening. All the facts and opinions he would present were in briefs filed weeks ago with the commission, but spoken evidence was considered important. It was an admission, perhaps, that few would ever read the mountain of paper which grew in size daily.

O'Brien spoke his prompting lines with the confidence of an actor in a long-running play.

"As to environmental effects, will you please explain . . .

"Can you be specific about those coal deliveries which . . .

"You stated earlier there would be limits on disturbance of flora and fauna, Mr. Goldman. I think the commission would like assurance that Please enlarge on "Would you say that . . .

"Now let's consider the. . ."

It took slightly more than a day and a half, a total of seven hours during which Nim remained in the witness chair, the focus of attention. At the end he knew he had presented the GSP & L case fairly and thoroughly. Just the same, he was conscious that his real ordeal-a succession of cross-examinations-was still to come.

In mid-afternoon of the second day of the resumed hearings, Oscar O'Brien faced the bench. "Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Tlat concludes my examination of this witness."

The chairman nodded. "I think Mr. Goldman deserves a break, and the rest of us would welcome one." He tapped with his gavel. "This hearing is adjourned until 10 am tomorrow."

Next day the cross-examinations began slowly and easily, like a car moving through low gears on a stretch of level road. The commission counsel, a dry-as-dust middle-aged lawyer named Holyoak, was first.

"Mr. Goldman, there are a number of points on which the commissioners require clarification. As it proceeded, Holyoak's questioning was neither friendly nor hostile. Nim responded in the same way, and competently.

Holyoak took an hour. Roderick Pritchett, manager-secretary of the Sequoia Club, was next and the interrogation moved into higher gear.

Pritchett, spare, neat and with mannerisms to match, wore a dark, conservatively tailored three-piece suit. His iron gray hair was precisely parted and in place; occasionally he put up a hand to satisfy himself it remained undisturbed. As he rose and approached the witness stand, Pritchett's eyes appeared to gleam behind his rimless glasses.

Shortly before the interrogation he had been conferring intently with Laura Bo Carmichael, seated beside him at one of the three counsel-witness tables.