This could have been a story about a woman blissfully and elegantly following her dream of opening a chocolate shop.
It could have been a story about warm liquid chocolate swirling over cool marble surfaces in mesmerising figure eights at the expert flick of a palette knife.
About the sprinkling and stirring of delightful additions to enhance the host mixture, the dipping and flipping of truffles, the slicing of gianduja, the cracking of praline, the crumbling of honeycomb.
But a grouchy ghost called Patricia intervened - and it all became a lot more complicated.