Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0AM4GRQCJZN855GXS7HGK4

Molly studied the floor plan she'd sketched on a napkin, her finger tracing the perimeter of the Jones family's backyard. Bill sat across from her at the diner booth, stirring his coffee like it owed him money. "So the party starts at two," Molly said, "and the cake arrives at three-fifteen. That's our window." "What happens at three-fifteen?" Bill asked. "Every adult in that yard rushes toward the cake like it's the last helicopter out of Saigon. That's when we make our move." Bill squinted at the napkin. "Why are there little stick figures with circles around them?" "Those are the kids, Bill. We need to account for every child at that party. Little Timmy Jones is turning six, and based on my research, he's got approximately thirty friends." "That's a lot of witnesses." "They're six years old, Bill. Half of them will be crying by the time the cake comes out. The other half will be sticky with frosting. Neither group is going to remember our faces." Bill nodded slowly. "Okay. I like that. So what's the entry plan?" "We come through the side gate during musical chairs," Molly explained, adjusting her glasses. "When that music stops, every parent's attention is focused on which toddler just got eliminated. Nobody's watching the gate." "And what do we wear?" "The same thing everyone wears to a children's party. Hawaiian shirts, khaki shorts, and sunscreen. We'll blend right in." Bill looked down at his black turtleneck. "I'm not wearing a Hawaiian shirt." "Bill, you can either wear a Hawaiian shirt and walk out with armfuls of presents, or you can wear that and get tackled by a man named Derek who coaches soccer." "Fine. What kind of Hawaiian shirt?" Something with parrots. Maybe flamingos. Something that screams "I'm Kevin's uncle and I flew in from Arizona." Bill wrote this down on his napkin. "What about names? If somebody talks to us?" "You're Kevin's uncle. I'm Karen's college roommate. We keep it simple and we keep moving." "What if Kevin's actual uncle shows up?" Molly paused. "Then you're Kevin's OTHER uncle. The one from Arizona." "Kevin doesn't have another uncle from Arizona." "How would you know that? Have you met Kevin?" Bill considered this. "Fair point." "Now, the presents get stacked by the gift table near the sliding glass door. That's our target. Once we've got the bags loaded into the wagon, we push it out the gate and load the car." "The wagon? We're using a wagon?" "It's a children's party, Bill. Nobody's going to question a wagon. It's practically expected." He nodded, finally starting to see the vision. "And the getaway vehicle?" "The minivan." "I'm not driving a minivan." "You're driving a minivan, Bill. A white one. With a soccer ball decal on the back window." "Where am I supposed to get a soccer ball decal?" "Karen's husband Derek probably has one in the garage. We'll grab it when we're grabbing the wagon." Bill stared at her for a long moment. "You've thought of everything, haven't you?" Molly smiled and sipped her coffee. "This is what happens when you don't invite me to the party, little Timmy."