The Butter People

The butter people had become a problem.

The apple people were all right, though a little talkative for Gerald's liking. Same with the berry people. And all the fruit people, for that matter. The milk people took themselves too seriously. There were no sugar or flour people, so these items arrived by truck to the bakery, each week's delivery a source of shame to Ginny, who had wanted to use only local ingredients in her pies. All of this though, would have been manageable, were it not for the butter people.

Gerald had promised Ginny, after he retired, they would do whatever she wanted. Her choice, one hundred percent. What Ginny wanted was to live in Missoula, Montana, near their daughter and grandson. And to make and sell pies.

So be it. They bought a house. They leased a storefront downtown. They spent time with their daughter and her boy. And they made pies. Well, Ginny made pies. Gerald was the supply guy, as Ginny called him. That meant it was up to him to make sure Ginny had flour and sugar, fruit and chocolate, pecans and spices and milk. It was up to him to make sure she had fucking butter.

"Some people make their crusts with lard instead," Gerald said, when the trouble first started. "Have you considered lard?"

But Ginny would not consider lard. "I don't understand what the issue is," she said.

And truth be told, neither did Gerald.

At first it had been just fine with the butter people. He'd go out to their farm – Hales' it was called – and get the butter. But then, one day, he was told by one of the Hale brothers that there was no butter in stock. So he went back the next day, and they only gave him half what he'd ordered. When he pointed this out, both brothers shrugged in unison.

He returned again the third day and this time they gave him cheese. They were also cheese people, the butter people. But since Gerald didn't have a use for cheese, he never referred to them this way.

"This isn't what I want," he told the brothers. "I need butter."

"You don't deserve butter," the older Hale said.

"What's that mean?"

"It means what it means," said the younger one. Gerald left fuming and he went to see the milk people. The milk people were not siblings, but husband and wife.

"Do you make butter?" Gerald asked.

"I'm sorry, we only do milk," the husband said.

"How much would I have to pay you to start making butter?"

"We're really not set up for that," the wife said. "It's a whole different thing."

"Not that different though," Gerald said. "Most dairies also do butter. And cheese. Although I don't need cheese."

"I'm sorry," the husband said again.

After that, Gerald told Ginny they would just have to order butter in bulk, like they did with the flour and sugar.

But Ginny said no. "If there's local butter, I want to use it. It's important to me."

So Gerald returned once more to the butter people. "Okay, what do I have to do to be deserving of the butter?" he asked.

"You have to be the butter," the older brother said. "And the cow," said the younger brother. "You also have to be the cow."

"And the butter churn," said the older one.

"Do you mean literally? Or figuratively?"

"Both," said the brothers.

"That doesn't make any goddamn sense," Gerald said.

"Okay, just be the cow then," the older brother said.

"That still doesn't make any goddamn sense," Gerald said, and he left again without butter.

That night Gerald and Ginny had dinner with another baker, a woman who made cookies.

"What do you know about the Hale brothers?" Gerald asked her.

"I get my butter from them!" she said. "Such sweet boys!"

"But don't you think they're strange?" Gerald pressed.

"Oh no. I think they're just sort of free spirits. In touch with nature and auras and...