"You go first," I told him.Mr. M. bent over at the waist, getting his head as far down as he could while pushing the wheelchair. By that time the smok... had nearly filled the house and there was only about two feet of good air near the floor. We navigated our way toward the front of the house with Mrs. M in the wheelchair, Mr. M pushing her and me bringing up the rear. Between the sounds of the smoke detectors and the wailing of fire trucks coming up the street I couldn't tell if Mrs. M was. But do you really want to do this here? That rug looks pretty rough and you wouldn't want us staining your furniture."Mr. Porter looked down at the industrial grade carpet and then at his obviously expensive leather couch and said to Linda, "Call Driggers and tell him to bring me one of those quilted furniture pads from the shipping department."To me he said, "You might as well get ready."Linda used Mr. Porter's phone to call someone on the intercom. She relayed his request for a quilt and then. More

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