Molly drummed her fingers nervously on the coffee shop table, her eyes darting toward the door every few seconds. The rain outside provided a fitting soundtrack to her mounting anxiety. Finally, Bill sauntered in, shaking water from his coat like a wet dog before sliding into the booth across from her. "You're late," she hissed, pushing a lukewarm cup of coffee toward him. "I've been sitting here looking suspicious for twenty minutes." Bill shrugged, unperturbed. "Traffic. Plus I was scouting the venue. You know, doing actual work." He took a long sip and grimaced. "This tastes like dishwater." "It's been sitting here for twenty minutes," Molly retorted. "So, what's the layout like?" Bill reached into his pocket and unfolded a crude sketch on a napkin. "The Henderson place is perfect. Suburban, corner lot, big backyard with a privacy fence. Little Timmy's fifth birthday party starts at two tomorrow. I counted sixteen RSVP balloons on their mailbox." "Sixteen kids means at least thirty presents," Molly mused, leaning forward to study the napkin blueprint. "What's our entry point?" "They're having one of those bouncy castle things delivered. We go in as the installation crew, wearing those generic service uniforms. While the real guys are delayed with the flat tire I'm going to arrange." Molly nodded, her eyes brightening. "Then what? We can't exactly stuff presents in our pockets while parents are watching." "That's the beauty part," Bill grinned, tapping the napkin. "See this? The parents are dropping kids off. It's one of those 'please dear god take my screaming child for three hours' deals. Only two adults staying—the Hendersons—and they'll be busy wrangling sugar-crazed kindergarteners." "So where do they keep the presents?" "Dining room, visible through sliding glass doors. We set up the castle, then one of us creates a distraction while the other slips back in through the side door and cleans out the gift table." Molly frowned. "What kind of distraction?" "I was thinking you could dress as a clown." "Absolutely not," she snapped, crossing her arms. "Why am I always the distraction?" "Because you're charming and I look like someone who'd have to register when moving to a new neighborhood." She rolled her eyes but didn't disagree. "Fine. But no clown costume. I'll be the face painter I saw on their party invitation. Simple switch—delay the real one like the bouncy castle guys." Bill nodded approvingly. "See? This is why we work well together. I do reconnaissance, you refine the plan." "What about our exit strategy?" "Loaded gift bags into the castle delivery van. Drive two blocks to the switching point, transfer to my car, and we're golden. Birthday haul could be worth a couple grand in resale." "You're forgetting something," Molly said, draining her coffee. "Little kids' birthday presents are usually garbage. Plastic toys, kiddie board games." "Not at this party. Henderson's dad is that tech executive. Little Timmy's getting a new tablet, gaming console, the works. I saw the mother carrying in Best Buy bags yesterday." Molly's smile slowly spread across her face. "Bill, you beautiful disaster. This might actually work." "Of course it will." Bill winked, folding up his napkin blueprint. "It'll be a piece of cake. Birthday cake, that is."