Chapter 6Sean knew that a gypsy mannequin had no say in his life—no magical insight into his future. The thing was a glorified vending machine, not much different than those automatic crane contraptions kids grabbed for stuffed animals with. But Sean had become a reluctant believer over time in acts of higher intervention—strange moments of guidance that tended to come when he least expected them . . . but most needed them.
Back when he was still drinking, he’d write them off as mere coincidence—the accentuation of a picture that held a timely answer, or a book falling off a desk and landing on a relevant page, or a long-lost object suddenly reappearing and affirming or discouraging an important decision. But in times of clearheadedness, there seemed to be a genuine, even intentional wisd
