Waiting Out the Storm. Ruth Herne Logan

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      He twisted, uncomfortable. “Don’t try your mother’s tricks on me, squaw-girl. This is none of your affair.”

      Obviously Ed thought the word “squaw” insulting. Maybe she’d e-mail him some Abenaki history. Her squaw legacy was deep and fulfilling, a blessing for a woman of strength. Counting the longnecks on the table alongside his recliner, Sarah saw that Ed was on beer number five.

      Great. He’d gotten an early start. Sarah continued to gaze at him, then angled her head. “I have three children who need their mother, one of whom is your godson. It would behoove you to act in their best interests instead of your own. You have no financial problems, Ed. You don’t need that money. Why tie it up for Rita? What do you hope to gain?”

      “You think talkin’ like a highfalutin’ college girl is gonna get you anywhere?” Ed blew out breath that smelled of sour mash and onions. “I may be simple, but I know my rights. Tom and I created that portfolio. Until a court makes me split it, it stays put. Rita can get her sorry butt out of bed and get a job. If she’d been more ambitious, Tommy wouldn’t have had to take that money.”

      Sarah’s heart hammered. Her lungs swelled. She wanted to smack him for insinuating Rita was responsible for Tom’s illicit actions.