Molly pressed the binoculars against her face and peered through the hedge at the bouncy castle wobbling in the afternoon sun. Streamers dangled from every fence post, and a piñata shaped like a dinosaur swung lazily from the oak tree. "Seventeen kids," she whispered. "Maybe eighteen. Hard to count when they keep moving." Bill crouched beside her, sketching a crude map on a napkin he'd stolen from the taco truck down the street. His brow furrowed with the intensity of a man planning something far more consequential than what they were actually doing. "Where are the presents?" he asked. "Folding table by the back door. Massive pile. I'm talking gift bags, wrapped boxes, the works." "Security?" "One dad grilling hot dogs. He looks sleepy." Bill nodded slowly. "We go during the cake. Every kid on the planet loses their mind when cake appears. Total chaos. Nobody watches anything except frosting." "That's actually brilliant," Molly admitted. "What about the mom?" "Which mom?" "The one who keeps counting heads like a prison warden." Bill chewed his pen cap. "Distraction. I'll release the bubbles early." "You brought the bubble machine?" "Molly, I'm a professional." She stared at him. He absolutely was not.