Molly peered through the binoculars at the bouncy castle in the Hendersons' backyard. "Twelve kids, two clowns, and one very stressed mom manning the gift table." "Perfect," Bill said, adjusting his fake mustache. "Wait, did you say clowns? Plural?" "Focus, Bill. The presents are stacked by the patio door. I count at least thirty boxes, all wrapped in that expensive paper with the little bows." "Rich people," Bill muttered. He pulled out a wrinkled napkin covered in crayon. "Okay, so I've mapped out the approach. We go through the side gate, army crawl past the sandbox, then—" "Army crawl?" Molly lowered the binoculars. "Bill, we're robbing a seven-year-old's birthday party, not infiltrating a military base." "You said to take this seriously!" "I said to take this job seriously. There's a difference between professional and deranged." She grabbed the napkin. "What's this stick figure supposed to be?" "That's you, obviously. See the ponytail?" "It looks like I'm being struck by lightning." "That's your grappling hook." Molly rubbed her temples. "We don't need grappling hooks. We need to blend in." She reached into her bag and pulled out two party hats. "Put this on." "Absolutely not." "Bill, every adult at that party is wearing one. You want to stand out like a sore thumb?" Bill reluctantly took the sparkly cone. "This is degrading. Whatever happened to the art of thievery? The finesse? When I trained under Montenegro Mike—" "Montenegro Mike got arrested stealing a mall Santa's donation bucket. Put the hat on." The van's radio crackled with their lookout's voice. "Cake's coming out in five minutes. That's your window." "Roger that, Eagle Eye," Bill responded. "Stop calling him Eagle Eye," Molly said. "His name is Dennis and he's your cousin." "It's about the atmosphere, Molly. The mystique." "There's no mystique in stealing from Little Susie Henderson!" "It's Sophie Henderson, actually," Bill corrected. "I did my research. She specifically asked for a pony, which she's not getting, so really we're doing her a favor by making this birthday memorable." "That's the worst rationalization I've ever heard." "Worse than when you said we were 'liberating' those garden gnomes from Home Depot?" "Those gnomes were marked up three hundred percent!" Molly strapped on her party hat. "Besides, we donated them to the retirement home." "After you kept twelve for yourself." "I have a themed garden!" She checked her watch. "Two minutes. You remember the plan?" "I pretend to be Uncle Randy from Tucson, you're my wife Margaret, we mingle for exactly ninety seconds, then you fake an allergic reaction to the clown's balloon animals while I load the presents into the piñata I've hollowed out." "What piñata?" Bill pointed to a massive unicorn piñata in the back of the van. "Bill, that's six feet tall." "Go big or go home, Molly." She stared at him, then at the party, then back at the piñata. "You know what? Fine. But I'm picking the next job." "Deal. Now let's go ruin Sophie's special day." "Sophie," Molly corrected, opening the van door. "Let's at least get her name right while we're destroying her childhood."