Maizy Chen’s Last Chance

The pies were fake, but my grandparents didn’t know that. Not at first, anyway. My mother had invited them to watch her work on a Tasty Flaky Pie Crust commercial. When I first started going with her to the set, Mom told me, “As a food stylist, my job is to make sure everything looks good for the camera.”
Oma and Opa showed up directly from the airport wearing matching airplane pillows around their necks. My job was to make sure they didn’t get into trouble.
My grandmother’s luggage had barely touched the floor when she rushed over and, in her excitement, practically knocked me down. Oma’s hug felt awkward partly because of the neck pillow and also because, even though I was eight years old, it was the first time I’d met her in person. My best friend thinks it’s weird that I don’t know my grandparents that well. Her family is really close.
“It’s complicated,” I’ve tried explaining to Ginger. But the truth is, I don’t understand it myself. My mom and I talk about almost everything, but when it comes to her relationship with her parents, that’s a different story.
On the set, Opa beamed brighter than the soundstage lights dangling overhead. “Maizy, you’re so big!” my grandfather kept repeating before he got distracted by the pretend kitchen with only one wall.
That’s when Oma pointed to a tight circle of people. “Shouldn’t they be working?” she asked. “Why aren’t they working?”
Mom stood calmly in the middle while the director yelled, “Charlotte, I need practice pies, now!”
“You’ll get your pies,” Mom said, motioning to the two dozen pies lined up on folding tables.