The sun-drenched parking lot was a typical Sunday afternoon crowd, strollers and screaming kids the norm. Not exactly the most thrilling hideout, but Bill had rigged a fake ventilation unit to create a convincing cloud of dust, keeping prying eyes at bay. Molly leaned against the wall, blowing on a lukewarm coffee, studying the blueprints of the party venue. "I swear, Bill, this is the sixth time I've read this. I think I've got it memorized. Two guards, party favors for the masses, and a piñata that's just asking to be dropped on someone's head." Bill scrubbed his jaw, eyes squinting. "You know as well as I do that a really good heist starts with the planning. Details, Molly, details! What's the MO here?" "Easy in, wave hello to Santa, dive for the presents when the room clears." "Not bad, not bad," Bill said, pocketing his pen. "But what about contingencies? What if the cake-cutter gets an emergency beeper-on-rent call and brings in reinforcements?" Molly snorted. "The cake-cutter doesn't even wear a real uniform. He's more worried about spilled orange juice stains than getting caught." "Well, a 'real' party would have a secret password, or a surprise performer." "Surprise performer?" Molly mouthed it like it was the worst idea she'd ever heard. "Santa in a wrestling singlet? Help me, Bill."