The Omelet Doesn’t Remember the Eggs

Give me a troubled atmosphere and I’ll give you a great sunset. But you’ll have to wait for it.

That’s where most people got it wrong, snapping shot after shot of a sun not yet below the horizon. The best sunsets Kak had ever seen came after turbulent days that saw the clouds break just in time to let the light through after the sun was gone. The real show began then, after the sun had been seemingly vanquished by the horizon. That’s when it became most potent, when its influence became most evident. But you needed an element of chaos to generate a good finish.

She sipped her third glass of pinot noir and waited, watching the sky through the panoramic windows of Old Captiva House. The promise of thunderheads would soon begin to reflect and scatter the red rays into the messy sky. You might even call it an angry sky. It pleased her to think of it that way.

As expected, various members of the Temple family and the wedding party stepped outside, raising their phones to capture what they imagined were dramatic images. They had no idea. She clucked her tongue and downed the rest of her glass.

Things haven’t begun to intensify yet. Just wait.

It gave her time to think. And when she did Liliana crept in. Not because she had sympathy. She didn’t. Not anymore. Liliana had been stupid. Well. Naïve. Maybe the most naïve woman on the planet. Kak saw it for what it was. It hadn’t been her influence at all. Liliana placed her trust in Carter long before Kak arrived. Liliana had cast her own lot and she’d live with it. Her attempt to attribute any of it to Kak was an avoidance of Liliana’s own culpability. Kak had no patience for it. The omelet doesn’t remember the eggs. It only knows it’s an omelet.

She took in the dining room. By normal standards the rehearsal dinner was a rousing success. On the plus side the bride showed up.

From the looks she encountered during the meal this surprised a fair number of those in attendance. The rumors circulated like a spoon in a martini tumbler. Anytime she found herself caught in the curious ogle of a wedding diner she put down her fork and stopped to stare directly at them. So far she hadn’t encountered anyone with the nerve to maintain this longer than half a second. Much less than that in most cases. You didn’t win a stare-down with a god.

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