CHAPTER SEVEN
L
ewis had been up a couple of hours when he heard the grandfather clock in the foyer chime six times. He turned on the coffee pot. Lewis had always gotten up at six. Ranchers and farmers didn’t have the luxury of sleeping late. Beverly had always gotten up before him and made the coffee. God, he missed her. Even though there were six people in the house and seventeen Secret Service agents just outside, Lewis felt like he was the loneliest person on the face of the earth.
“Watcha doing?” came from the kitchen door. Lewis saw Monica standing there holding ‘Theo’ her stuffed teddy bear.
“Making coffee,” answered Lewis.
Monica took a chair opposite of Lewis at the breakfast table. She was only four and a half years old. She was still wearing her P. J.’s. Long blond hair to
