Winter Tides by James P. Blaylock

He keeps sending the Fool down to the corner for a pint, which he’s hiding from his daughters. Cordelia starts looking around and finds bottles everywhere—in the book cases, the toilet tank, under the beds. She calls him on it, and he gets mad, and the other sisters take his side and get him liquored up so bad that the whole damned kingdom starts to fall apart. He starts having the DT’s out on the heath. Probably the Fool’s been taking a nip himself, and that’s why he talks like such a damned lunatic….” He nodded at Dave. “I’m telling you, this is
good—King Lear
for the nineties.” He stood up then and crimped the hose in order to stop the flow of water. He unscrewed the sprinkler from the end and set it on the floor of the porch, then leaned out over the balcony and took a long drink out of the nozzle. “Hose water?” he asked, waving the hose in Dave’s direction.
    Dave shook his head. “I ought to get back to work, get something done before the boss shows up.”
    “The Earl getting in today?” He stepped down off the porch and turned off the spigot.
    “I meant Edmund.”
    “Edmund
,” Collier said flatly. “If this was a fair world, they’d grind that bastard up and use him for chum.”
    “I won’t argue with that.” Dave followed him down onto the lawn, and the two of them stood at the edge of the garden.
    Collier bent over and pinched the bottom growth off the tomato vines. “You know what he was telling me yesterday? They’re going to tear down the bungalow.”
    “Not a chance.”
    “Big chance, apparently. They’ll sell the back two acres here to the city. Municipal parking. They’d make enough money to subsidize our rent somewhere else. That’s his word—
subsidize
. Translated, it means that Jenny and I are out on the street. Eviction. Hell, I don’t have any income besides what I get from the Earl—nothing except Social Security. What good is a subsidized rent to me? I’ve been living here rent-free for ten years. I’m grateful for it, too, but I’ve got into the habit of it now. I don’t know what we’d do if we had to move out. Another hundred a month would break me. I don’t care too much myself, but Jenny’s got to have a decent place to live. Damned Social Services is already yapping at me about Jenny.”
    “That can’t be any kind of big problem. You’ve got plenty of friends on your side. They’re probably just doing some kind of routine checks.”
    “I think some bastard’s been calling in stories, making stuff up.”
    “Who?”
    “Ed, that’s who. He wants us the hell out of here because he’s a greedy punk.”
    “You won’t be evicted,” Dave said. “It just won’t happen. You know the Earl. He won’t even talk about it. He’ll just put it off forever. I think he’s philosophically opposed to municipal parking.”
    “Yeah, I
do
know the Earl. He nearly dropped dead from that triple bypass last year. If he dies on us, the bastard son ascends to the throne. He doesn’t have any philosophy except for money.”
    “He ascends to the throne along with his brother.”
    “Well, God bless his brother. He’s always been my favorite. Hell, I’m Casey’s
god
father. It pains me to say that he’s drunk most of his backbone away, if you follow me. Don’t get me wrong. I’d jump in front of a train to save him. But I don’t think he’s got a lot of fight in him. I think his brother could take him in a cold second.”
    “He’d surprise you.”
    “I truly hope so.”
    The screen door banged shut, and Jenny came down the porch steps drinking a Dr. Pepper.
    “It’s too early for that,” Collier said to her. “What about milk?”
    “It’s sick,” she said, and she put a finger halfway down her throat to indicate that she was gagged by the idea.
    “Well, I don’t want you drinking sodas, not this early in the morning. With lunch it’s okay sometimes, but not with breakfast.”
    “I’m finished,” she said. “See?” She turned the