Read Online Dear Hank Williams by Kimberly Willis Holt - Free Book Online Page A

waving at us from the front window. By the time we did, she’d moved away from the window and opened the front door.
    â€œYou want a closer look?” she asked. She was tiny, with black hair and blue eyes, and appeared to be about Momma’s age.
    Uncle Jolly didn’t answer her. He seemed too busy taking in her beauty. I glanced at the lady’s wedding band on her left hand. Sure enough, someone else had noticed her beauty before Uncle Jolly. He was always sizing up the wrong woman.
    I nudged him in the side with my elbow.
    Uncle Jolly blinked, but his mouth still hung open. I was afraid he’d start drooling.
    â€œUncle Jolly, the lady asked if we want to go inside.”
    He stammered. “Uh, uh, uh, no … that’s okay, ma’am. You’re closing and all.”
    I was glad Uncle Jolly didn’t say yes. Frog could wake up and think we’d abandoned him.
    The saleslady came outside and joined us in front of the window. “It comes in mahogany or walnut. Which would you like?”
    â€œMa-ma-ma-hog-gany,” Uncle Jolly said.
    I had to step in before he bought a Victrola he couldn’t afford. “How much does that Victrola cost?”
    The lady pointed to the sign at the foot of the Victrola that somehow we’d missed. Now I could see it as clear as day—$209.50!
    Uncle Jolly snapped out of his trance.
    â€œThat includes fifty phonographs,” the saleslady said.
    Mr. Williams, you’ll be happy to know what my next question was. I asked, “Are any of them by Hank Williams?”
    â€œI don’t believe we have any of those yet.”
    â€œThen we wouldn’t be interested, would we, Uncle Jolly?”
    â€œWell, now…”
    The lady laughed. “I never lost a sale over Hank Williams before. I guess we better look into getting some of his phonographs. Which song do you like best?”
    â€œâ€˜Move It On Over,’ but Uncle Jolly likes ‘Lovesick Blues.’”
    â€œThat’s my favorite too,” she said, smiling at Uncle Jolly.
    â€œThat a fact?” Uncle Jolly leaned against the wall and tipped his hat. That lady knew how to sell a Victrola to Uncle Jolly. He was settling in. I had to think quick.
    â€œUncle Jolly, we better go. Frog will be waking up and wonder where we’re at.”
    Uncle Jolly turned toward me like I’d snapped him with a rubber band. For a few seconds, he didn’t say anything, just stood staring at me. Then he looked to the lady and said, “I’ll come back when it isn’t closing time.”
    â€œIf you do, I wish you’d ask for me. My name is Garnett.”
    â€œGarnett,” Uncle Jolly said, “like the jewel. My name is James Poche.”
    I’d never heard Uncle Jolly introduce himself with his real name.
    Garnett held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, James.”
    Uncle Jolly went to reach for Garnett’s hand, but I grabbed his sleeve and tugged.
    â€œCome on, Uncle Jolly. Remember Frog?”
    Uncle Jolly glared at me but pulled the keys out of his pocket. He smiled at Garnett, tipping his hat. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll check back soon.”
    â€œAnd what’s your name, young lady?” she asked.
    â€œTate,” I said, walking away fast. “Maybe we’ll be back when you get those Hank Williams phonographs.” See, Mr. Williams? I’m doing what I can to shoot your fame all the way to the moon.
    Back in the car, Uncle Jolly started the engine and asked, “Tate, why’d you tell her Frog was asleep?”
    â€œI didn’t. I said he might wake up.” I glanced back at Frog stretched out on the back seat. Big Pete’s boots had slipped off his feet and I could see his toe sticking out of a hole in his sock.
    Uncle Jolly’s eyes grew soft. Then he shook his head and looked straight ahead at the road. He didn’t talk to me the entire drive back. His mind seemed