Run: 2026-07-07-01KWZ338DS2QREF9SV403KEKF8

The van smelled like old takeout and regret. Molly unrolled the blueprint across the dashboard, weighted down one corner with a half-eaten burrito, and the other with Bill's elbow. "Operation Happy Birthday commences at exactly 14:00 hours," Molly announced. Bill scratched his stubble. "That's two in the afternoon. You know I can't tell military time." "That's why I said both, Bill. Now, the target is seven-year-old Tyler Williams, and the haul should be approximately twenty-three presents." "Twenty-three? How do we know it's exactly twenty-three?" "His mother posted the guest list on Facebook, Bill. Each guest brings one present. Plus, the parents. Plus grandma, who's bringing something big. The woman loves a sale at Toys 'R' Us." "Toys 'R' Us went bankrupt, Mol." "My point is, the grandma overcompensates. Now, we go in through the backyard, where the bouncy castle is set up. You'll need the pink wig." "I'm not wearing the wig again. The kids tried to braid it last time." Bill shifted in his seat. The truth was, he wasn't great with kids, and he was even worse with bouncy castles. "Bill, the wig is essential. You're 'Aunt Tracy' today." "Since when do I look like a Tracy?" "Since we needed a character with zero backstory who can blend into the background while I cut through the gift table with surgical precision." Bill shifted uncomfortably. "The parents will notice." "They won't. At the height of the party, the parents are exhausted. The key distraction is the cake. When they bring out the ice cream cake—and I've confirmed it's ice cream cake, not regular cake—everyone looks toward the birthday boy. We have a forty-second window." "Forty seconds to grab twenty-three presents?" "We're taking the whole table. I've got the dolly in the back." Bill's eyes went wide. "You're going to wheel out a whole table of presents in front of everyone?" "Not in front of everyone. Through the side gate. The same way the caterer came in." "There's a caterer?" "It's a nice party, Bill. There's a caterer, a face painter, and a woman dressed as Elsa from Frozen who looks like she's been crying. This is a professional operation, which means we need to act professional." "I don't know, Molly. It feels wrong stealing from kids." "Kids don't buy their own presents, Bill. They don't appreciate them. Half those toys end up unopened in a closet by next Tuesday. We're rescuing them. We're giving them a purpose." "By fencing them on eBay?" "By giving them a second life with buyers who'll truly value them. And if we get twenty-three gifts at an average resale value of thirty dollars each, that's almost seven hundred dollars." "Six hundred ninety," Bill corrected. "Math wasn't supposed to be your thing." Molly checked her watch. "The party starts in forty-five minutes. Put on the wig." Bill groaned but reached for the pink curls on the dashboard. "This is the last time." "That's what you said at the Bar Mitzvah."