There was a broken yellow cake with strawberries and sprinkles all over the front porch!

Addy Wilder was fond of recalling a very romantic beginning of her parent’s courtship. It happened when her parents, Peter and Paula, were in the first grade at Charles Ellis Elementary School.

It was a time of great excitement for Franklin Wilder.

His friend Sebastian de Alba had invited him to a reception at the Cuban Embassy in Washington. The senior de Alba had just been posted to the position of ambassador from the island nation.

He promised her Paris.

Clara knew that Doc was a man of his word. He had promised to take her to Paris on their honeymoon. However, the sudden call to arms and his rapid departure did not allow that to happen.

The new term at Cornell was to begin in two weeks.

Franklin had enjoyed the time during the holidays with his family. He loved them and was deeply devoted to them. Being home was a point where he could stop, settle and take stock of his life. He came to two major conclusions.

Addy was a list maker.

Preston was not.

At the first of each year, she would write down all the major events of her life, prioritize them and create steps as to how each would be achieved ~ successfully.”

This year her list went like this…

Addy was wearing white.

But, she always did. It was her signature. However, she never white shoes after Labor Day and never before Easter. She did have her standards! So was the case that evening on Dec 31, 2021. That night, her shoes were red, for a festive touch. She had prepared a charcuterie board with oysters and Red Dragon Cheese. She drank pinot noir. Preston drank gin.

They were watching the ball drop festivities from Times Square from the warmth of her home on Maupas Avenue. The two marveled at the number standing there in the arctic temperatures. The weather in Savannah had been in the 70s all week.

It had been two years since Clara Wilder had kissed her husband (of less than a week) as he boarded the train at the Savannah Station. He left to begin his service to his country as a new doctor in the US Army Medical Corps.

She wrote to “Doc” daily and recounted the news from home. She wrote about their families, her work in the Red Cross Canteen Program, her Victory Garden and even the canning of fruits and vegetables gathered from his grandparent’s farm on the outside of town. All these activities kept her busy. She needed that. Anytime she would stop and think about her husband and the constant threat of danger he was in made her blood run cold. She could not shut her eyes at night.

She decided it was time to have a new human.

Although very slight and only weighing in at five pounds she was a force to be reckoned with. Her coat was sleek and luxurious and the deepest shade of black. Her eyes were a piercing yellow. She was striking. Her powers of command were not evident at first. Her living situation was humble but comfortable. Through a turn of events, she had landed in a low country animal shelter. No one there could recall her circumstances for arrival, but they recognized her as a sweet girl that never seemed to be considered for adoption. It was at least six years that she had been there. The only reason the staff felt she had not been taken was the fact a superstition still lingers about having a black cat.

Franklin Wilder’s mid-terms at Cornell had come to an end. His first half term was proven a success. It was driven by his passion and love of his chosen major of architecture. He was now ready for his week off and his trip to Appleton Farms in upstate New York. It was to be the scene of a weeklong house party and hunt.

In the 600 block of West 34th street stands a grand Greek Revival home. It has seven bedrooms, four baths and servants’ quarters for three. It is located around the corner from the Bull Street Library. Like the Library, it was built in 1922 and emulated its grand Gothic Revival style and Doric columns.

The home was a wedding gift from Brady Portman to his daughter Amanda and her new husband, Thomas Wilder. Thomas was the twin brother of Addy’s Great Uncle Franklin Wilder.

“No one will ever know!”

So thought high school senior, Jasper Collins.

Jasper was Franklin Wilder’s first cousin. He was a strapping young man with fine bearing and rakishly good looks. He was a Senior at the new Benedictine Military College on Bull Street. He juggled two girlfriends. Fortunately, both of their names were Mary Elizabeth.

It is a bit old fashioned.

The Wilder’s home on Maupas Avenue had a sleeping porch. It ran the back length of the upstairs. It was positioned to capture the northern nightly breeze. The house had been updated and insulated so that the air conditioning would run more efficiently. However, on occasion the family would take advantage of the balmy nights of late September and sleep on the porch.

World War II brides put their soldiers on trains.

They cried. They said prayers. They gave them passionate kisses. They donned brave smiles and waved until their husbands were out of view.

Rebecca was no exception. She and Franklin “Doc” Wilder had only been married three days. Their plans and dreams were put on hold.

It was the same spot.

It was one of the few things in Addy Wilder’s life they would never change.

For as long as she could remember, the Wilders would go to the Savannah River for the Labor Day fireworks.

Addy Wilder’s backyard had a Meyers Lemon tree. It was planted in 1915 when the house was built.

To say it produced in abundance was an understatement. The lemons were massive in size. They were almost 3 to 4 times the size of those you would find down the street at Smith Brothers Grocery.

The Wilders’ timed their New York Holiday to coincide with a performance by Addy’s childhood friend, Gelia.

Since the day Addy met the sweet, shy and sad little girl, who sat all alone on the swing set in Baldwin Park, they had become immediate and lifelong friends. From that day forward, the girls developed a bond of sisterhood.