Molly pressed her face against the fence, peering through a crack at the colorful balloons bobbing in the afternoon breeze. "Are you absolutely certain about this?" Bill asked, adjusting his fake mustache nervously. "Dead certain. My intel says there's a Nintendo Switch in there. Maybe two." "Your intel is your nephew who's friends with the birthday boy." "Exactly. Kid's eight years old. Prime gift-receiving age." Molly pulled out a small notepad. "We've got roughly forty-five minutes before cake time. That's our window." Bill scratched his chin. "And your plan is what, exactly? We just waltz in there pretending to be somebody's parents?" "Not just somebody's parents. The Hendersons. They RSVP'd yes but little Timmy has chicken pox." "How do you know that?" "I have my sources." "Your nephew again?" "He's very chatty." Molly tucked the notepad away. "Now, you're Mr. Henderson, I'm Mrs. Henderson, and we're here with our imaginary daughter Susie who's using the bathroom." "Why is Susie always in the bathroom in your schemes?" "Because nobody questions bathroom emergencies, Bill. It's the perfect alibi. Now, once we're inside, you distract the parents with small talk about interest rates or whatever boring thing dads discuss." "I don't know anything about interest rates!" "Then talk about grilling! Everybody loves grilling." Molly straightened her cardigan. "Meanwhile, I'll slip into the present room and start loading up." Bill's eyes widened. "Loading up with what? We can't just carry out armfuls of wrapped presents!" "That's why I brought this." Molly produced an enormous beach tote from behind the fence. "That says 'Best Mom Ever' on it." "So? It's convincing!" "It's suspicious!" "You're suspicious," Molly muttered. "Look, we go in, we're friendly, we blend. I'll tell them Susie's present is in the car and we'll grab it later. Classic misdirection." Bill sighed deeply. "What happened to you, Molly? We used to steal from casinos, from museums. Now we're robbing children." "We're robbing presents FROM children. There's a distinction. And might I remind you that casino job landed us in county lockup for three months?" "Fair point." "Besides, we're not monsters. We're leaving the birthday boy's presents alone. We only take from the pile." "How noble of us." "I thought so." Molly smoothed her hair and plastered on a bright smile. "Ready, Mr. Henderson?" Bill adjusted his mustache one final time. "This is absolutely the last kids' party. Next week, we're back to hitting jewelry stores like respectable criminals." "Deal. Now remember, you have irritable bowel syndrome if anyone asks why Susie's taking so long." "Why do I have irritable bowel syndrome?" "It's hereditary. Now come on, I hear the piñata breaking. That's our cue." They stood, straightened their disguises, and walked toward the gate like suburban parents heading into battle.