Molly crouched beside Bill behind a towering stack of gift-wrapped boxes, her eyes darting across the yard filled with sugared-up children and harried parents. "Molly, this is madness," Bill whispered. "We're known for art galleries, not piñata scores." She grinned, adjusting the oversized sunglasses perched on her nose. "Exactly. Nobody suspects the usual suspects to go cockeyed kiddie. It's a Christmas miracle wrapped in anarchy." He checked his watch, anxiety etching lines into his face. "We've got ten minutes 'til the gift opening starts." Molly unrolled a blueprint, pointing to a hastily drawn treehouse. "We nab 'em from the high ground, like reverse SantaClause raiders." "What if we trip an alarm?" Bill raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing the plan. "Leave that to me," Molly replied with a wink, pulling out a wind-up jack-in-the-box and setting it on the grass. Bill groaned. "You're not seriously thinking that contraption will distract anyone, are you?" The jack-in-the-box popped, and a clown head bounced out with a recorded cackle, causing a group of toddlers to wail in unison. Amidst the ensuing chaos, Bill stared at Molly, half impressed, half horrified. She gave him a thumbs up. "Go time, partner!" With surprising agility, they scrambled up the tree, the branches swaying precariously under their weight. From their lofty perch, Molly held out a sack and Bill began to hoist up the presents tied to a rope. "You do realize," Bill puffed as they worked, "the irony of stealing gifts at a charitable event?" Molly paused, the last present dangling in mid-air. She looked at Bill and, with a mischievous twinkle, declared, "We're not stealing gifts, Bill. We're teaching these kids the gift of intrigue!" They shared a devious laugh, and in a whirlwind of wrapping paper, the heist was complete.