Molly pressed the binoculars against the minivan window and watched a clown twist a balloon into something that looked disturbingly like a weapon. "Seventeen kids," she whispered. "That's seventeen presents minimum. Could be the biggest haul since the Henderson bar mitzvah." Bill squinted at the hand-drawn map on his lap, which was unfortunately sketched on a napkin that had already been used for hot wings. "So I go in through the bouncy castle?" "You go in through the bouncy castle." "Molly, I weigh two hundred and forty pounds. I'll launch a child into the stratosphere." "That's a distraction, Bill. That's what we call synergy." He wiped hot sauce from the escape route and frowned. "What if the presents are garbage? Last time we got fourteen copies of Candy Land." "I've done reconnaissance. The Hendersons are loaded. We're talking brand-name LEGOs, Bill. Maybe even a bicycle." "I do need a bicycle." "Everyone needs a bicycle. Now put on the costume." Bill held up the rainbow wig and oversized shoes with the quiet dignity of a man who had made every wrong decision available to him in life. "I'm not being another clown, Molly." "You're being another clown, Bill."