4Outside the Goldblatt building, an odd kind of coincidence happened. Just as Milt and I stepped out to the curb, a biplane flew overhead towing a banner, “SHOP AT MARSHALL FIELD’S.” Spooky, like the guy was watching us.
At least, that’s what I was thinking. But evidently it was coincidental to Milt for another reason.
“Flying Down to Rio,” he sighed, his eyes tracking the plane.
“Huh?”
“It was a movie,” he said. I knew, too. Starring Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, the dance duo that floated on clouds and never missed a step. “Your mother loved the dancing,” he went on. “I loved the plane.”
I also knew, as he knew I knew but didn’t mention, that he had his own single-engine airplane years ago when I was still in short-shorts. He wasn’t a pilot any more than a guy who hails a cab is a
