Run: 2026-09-03-01M1KA81EAJ9QDD3S3SQVGG8VM

Molly lowered the binoculars and let out a low whistle. “You see the mountain of glitter over there? That’s not a craft station, Bill. That’s the present table.” Bill squinted through the hedge, his face pinched with the gravity of a man who had once tried to steal a Fabergé egg using only a slingshot. “I count forty-seven. Maybe forty-eight. There’s a unicorn-shaped one that’s calling to me.” “Focus,” Molly said. “We’re not here for the unicorn. We’re here for the haul. The parents are all in the bounce house. The birthday girl is crying by the piñata. That gives us maybe six minutes.” “Six minutes is plenty,” Bill said. “I once emptied a whole wedding registry in four.” “That was a gift shop, Bill.” “Same energy.” Molly pulled a folded party hat from her pocket and put it on. “The key is to look like we belong. I’m Aunt Carol from the other side. You’re Uncle Dave who’s had too much punch.” “I can do that,” Bill said. “I’ve been Uncle Dave my whole life.” “Good. Now, when I give the signal, you start a game of freeze tag. Loudly. Get the kids running. I’ll slide the presents into this.” She produced a large gift bag with a cartoon dinosaur on it. “It’s insulated. For the cake.” “You’re a genius,” Bill said. “I know. But genius needs a distraction. Can you handle that without eating the cake?” “I can handle anything,” Bill said. “But what if the kids don’t want to play freeze tag? What if they want to play, like, ‘Why is that man stealing presents?’” “Then you improvise,” Molly said. “You’re a professional.” “I’m a professional who once got tackled by a grandmother at a bar mitzvah.” “That was because you tried to steal the menorah.” “It was a nice menorah.” Molly sighed. “Okay. New plan. We don’t steal the presents. We steal the gift cards. They’re in the card box. No one guards the card box.” Bill’s eyes lit up. “The card box. Of course. It’s like the tip jar of birthdays.” “Exactly. I’ll distract the mom by asking where she got her shoes. You grab the box and put it in the dinosaur bag.” “What if she wants to talk about the shoes?” Bill asked. “Then you better be fast,” Molly said. “Because I can only fake interest in footwear for about ninety seconds.” “I can do ninety seconds,” Bill said. “I once pretended to care about a man’s stamp collection for a full hour.” “That was for a job?” “No, that was just a sad afternoon.” Molly checked her watch. “The cake is coming out in five minutes. That’s our window. After the candles, the presents get opened. We need to be gone before the sugar crash.” “And if we get caught?” Bill asked. Molly smiled and adjusted her party hat. “Then we’re just two confused relatives who wandered into the wrong party. It’s a classic.” “I love it,” Bill said. “Let’s go be family.” They crept through the hedge, and Molly whispered, “Remember, if anyone asks, I’m Carol and you’re Dave.” “Got it,” Bill said. “And if anyone asks why I’m carrying a dinosaur bag full of gift cards, I’m Dave who loves dinosaurs.” Molly paused. “That’s actually not a bad cover.” “I have my moments,” Bill said. “They’re rare, but they’re shiny.”