"So the party starts at two," Molly said, spreading a hand-drawn map across the diner table. "That gives us a thirty-minute window while the clown is doing balloon animals." "I hate clowns," Bill muttered. "Everyone hates clowns, Bill. Focus. The presents will be stacked on a folding table near the bouncy castle." "A bouncy castle," Bill repeated, his eyes lighting up. "No." "I didn't say anything." "You were thinking it. We are not bouncing. We are grabbing and going." Bill leaned forward. "What's our cover?" "You're delivering a second cake." "There's already a cake?" "It's a birthday party, Bill. There's always a cake." "So I just walk in with another cake and nobody questions it?" "Have you ever met a child who questioned more cake?" "Fair point. What about you?" "I'm the face painter." "Can you paint faces?" "I can paint a butterfly that looks like a butterfly if nobody looks too closely." "So a moth." "It's a children's party, not an art gallery. When the kids line up for cake two, I bag the presents and go out the back." "This is either genius or we're going to prison over a pile of Legos." "Both seem equally likely."