When she left the chapel, Amelia wandered into a small side chapel, whose walls were hung with crutches and written tributes that testified to miraculous healings attributed to the sand taken from a depression in the earth. This depression, she learned, was revered as the well, or El Posito.

“They say that in the year of our Lord 1810, on Good Friday, a light came out of the ground right here, and when they dug, they found pieces of a cross,” a woman named Mildred said. “They say this earth heals.” She kneeled, dug her hands into the shallow well, and crossed herself with muddy fingers. On the way out, Mildred purchased a vial of muddy sand at the gift shop. “For a friend,” she said, blushing. “She’s been ill and she believes that this will heal her.”

Sadie stood on the sidelines silently observing the adults. Back at the hotel, she turned to Amelia. “Grandma, I like to take pictures. When I grow up, I want to be a photographer and make books of pictures just like you.”

When Amelia and Sadie arrived at breakfast the next morning wearing matching crisp white shirts and khaki slacks, they found the others speaking with animation about their plans for their first independent day. Some were going to shoot gates in walls along small side streets. Others talked of strolling the Plaza, visiting the museum, and shooting candid people shots there.

Sadie departed with Laurie, and Amelia took Miriam aside to explain the uses of her new camera, then suggested they spend time shooting together. Leaving Ben and the others behind, they strode away, turned left on a side street, and came face-to-face with a startlingly bright, aqua-colored doorway upon which hung a red pepper wreath.

“Stand by the door, will you, Miriam? I’d like to take a shot of you against that background,” Amelia said.

Across the street, a man in a large sombrero grinned and waved at them. It was Ben. “I bought a three hundred millimeter lens and this hat.”

Amelia waved, smiled, took Miriam’s arm, and guided her toward the Loretto Chapel, famous for its miraculous staircase. Would Ben, she wondered, grasp the idea that they wanted to work alone?

The dimly lit, simply plastered interior of the chapel offered a cool respite from the summer sun, and on a table by the front door Miriam picked up a pamphlet.

“Listen to this, Amelia. According to legend, the corkscrew stairs were built without nails or visible support beams by a carpenter who appeared mysteriously.” She read on. “He’s said to have completed the job using only a T square, a hammer, a saw, and a tub of water for bending the wood. And the man left without taking money or leaving his name. It’s incredible.”

Amelia appraised the staircase with its two full turns, no center support, and no supports from either side. “Incredible indeed,” she said.