The Altar of Manhattan

Three months later, on a crisp, crystalline Saturday in early spring, the private chapel of the Hudson Valley estate was adorned in white gardenias, fragrant eucalyptus, and hundreds of flickering ivory candles. It was an intimate, private ceremony attended only by forty of their closest friends, loyal executives, and Mrs. Gable, who sat in the front pew dabbing joyful tears with an embroidered linen handkerchief. Elena walked down the stone…