Time is a currency. June West is done letting strangers spend it.
When June inherits her grandmother's brass locket?an old Appalachian timepiece that can "borrow" a second to save a life?she swears to use it the way it was meant: for chores, not miracles. But a velvet-voiced salesman arrives in her Tennessee county selling "seamless" days and mercy in bulk?token bowls, hush machines, subscription ferries. Every bargain makes life easier...and emptier. Every "improvement" steals the small, human pauses a town needs to stay itself.
Standing between the county and a clean, polished quiet is June; her mother, who believes pie is a sacrament; and Elias, the river's ferryman with a gold ring in his eye and a past that smells like rain. Together they rig bell-ropes to names, stitch windows open two inches, teach a haunted motel to eat jam instead of vows, and turn a creaking ramp into Afterwards, the ferry that gets folks home.
The salesman's offer gets sharper: ten storm-free years...if June hands over the locket?and the hinge in her own heart. To keep her town's breath un-bought, June must decide what she'll trade, what she won't, and whether love is an hour you guard or a door you keep open.
A tender, eerie, small-town romantic fantasy about the minutes that make us human?knocked mugs, sung names, imperfect hymns?and the courage to spend them where they count.
