SUMMER — JANUARY | 74 GUESTS | THE CEDAR LAWN
Beneath the towering cedar that has watched over Gabbinbar for generations, they exchanged vows framed by drifts of white delphinium, dahlia and Queen Anne's lace, the crossback chairs standing in patient rows on the lawn. Her gown, strapless and sculpted, closed with a slow procession of covered buttons down the spine, its cathedral veil catching the afternoon light. He dressed nearby in the old library, black tie loosened against leather and worn spines, before rose petals fell like a soft applause down the aisle. As evening settled, the conservatory glowed beneath its glass roof and grand piano, guests gathered close, and beneath a crystal chandelier the newlyweds turned quietly in their first dance, watched over by the swan-carved fountain that had opened their day.
