OK, so let it be know: I love dark chocolate. Not milk chocolate. Dark. The darker the better. I must admit, when I walked into my sleeping room at the Grand America in Salt Lake City—so weary from traveling and speaking in so many different cities—chocolate was NOT on my mind. Surprise! There on the table beside the sofa, perched in miniature splendor, was a baby grand chocolate piano complete with three more tiny chocolate. So delicate. So perfect. And for once—I resisted eating the confection. Some things just bring joy in their cunning appearance. I carefully put it in my extra plastic bag to carry it home and show my food and beverage husband.