A flicker still wasn't enough. She could feel it -- something had changed, but not completely. It was still broken.
She considered Charlie and his son. They'd saved her life, after all. Abe perhaps out of goodwill, but not the old man. He wanted something; perhaps something he could only get with this watch. With her. "How many more are there?" she asked. "How many timeholes?"
He grinned--a crooked, narrow grin that burned away any remaining trust she might have held for him. "I like to call them time pieces," he said. "Little bits broken off, just floating around, like."
She rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said again, "how many time pieces are left? How many of these things do I have to fix before my grandfather's watch finally works?"
"Well," he returned, "how many bottles were on that old windowsill?"