Harriman was seventy-nine years old; Pamela, fifty-one. They spent the evening in close conversation. “It was very strange,” she said, “because the moment we started talking, there were so many things to reminisce about that one really hadn’t thought about for years.” Eight weeks later they married, in a private ceremony at a church on Manhattan’s Upper East Side, attended by only three guests. They wanted the ceremony kept secret—but only for the moment.
