When Robin was really irritated with Shiva, she’d call her Myra.

It didn’t help that her mother was tall, glamorous, and model thin. She was also sophisticated and interesting and everyone loved to be around her. Her missionary upbringing gave her an awareness of the world and its problems, which led her to become the spokesperson for a humanitarian organization called Feed the World.

By the time Robin was ten years old, her mother was traveling constantly, returning home every few months for only a day or so. But that was okay with me, because when Shiva left the commune, Robin would stay at my house. We had a slumber party every night. I would’ve been happy if Shiva stayed away permanently, but I could never say that to Robin.

“How long did you visit with her?” I asked as I started the dishwasher.

“Three excruciating days.” Robin laughed drily. “She’s such a drama queen. She couldn’t settle in London or Paris. No, she had to go live in Varanasi. I swear she thinks she’s Mother Teresa in Prada. She shows up at the marketplace and women beg for her advice on everything from child care to fashion. Child care. Are you kidding me?”

“That’s a little surprising.”

“You think?” Robin shook her head. “But you know she loves it all. Never mind. I promised myself I wouldn’t bitch about her, but it’s always so tempting. Anyway, the city of Varanasi itself was awesome. I’ll probably return with a tour group sometime. I saw the Monkey Temple and walked for hours along the Ghats overlooking the Ganges. It was amazing. I took lots of photos. I’ll send you the link.”

The Ghats were the flights of steps that ran for miles along the Ganges River. “It all sounds fascinating.”