Hours later, the farther the level of wine in the bottle went down, the more Coco’s desperation ballooned. Design after design filled her sketchbook only to be rejected. Too juvenile. Too stiff. Too tacky. Too dull. Too much. Nothing did justice to what the couple dreamed of. Nothing showed who they were. And nothing proved that she could produce a cake worthy of being shown on television. She’d wanted to do something special for Chaz and George, but it just wasn’t going to happen. One last attempt produced only a grim parody of a carousel: perfect for mausoleum décor, but a wedding? Definitely not.
Letting her head sink into her hands, she groaned in defeat and wondered how in the world she’d tell Chaz and George they’d have no wedding cake.
The ringing of the phone was a welcome reprie
