This story is inspired by a photo shared on the Janet Evanovich Fan Fiction Facebook group, or one member's son wearing his 'weapons' at the dinner table.

It is set after Lester's Happily Ever After and contains spoilers if you haven't read up to Chapter 65 (where it is currently sitting unfinished) and assumed where the ending is leading.

No Weapons at the Dinner Table

As she ambled up the path toward the house, Grace Santos took the opportunity to stretch out a couple of kinks that had formed in her body following the previous evening's vigorous activities. She'd married Lester a little less than four months ago and he'd never let the fact that Kenzie was sleeping just down the hall prevent them from engaging in amorous bedroom activities on a regular basis. Last night, however, with Kenzie at a friend's house for a sleepover, their lovemaking had been hotter, wilder, louder, more aerobic than usual and Grace was feeling it this morning. If she'd realised how stiff she was before getting in the car to come pick up Kenzie, she would have insisted her husband give her a massage.

Although now that she thought about it, that may have lead to another round of sex, which would have defeated the purpose.

"Grace! Welcome!" Jill Watford greeted, appearing at the screen door before Grace had even made it to the top of the porch steps. She swung the door open wide and beckoned her in, so as not to cause a scene by lingering too long on the porch. Such was the way with all Burg Mothers, Grace had learned, and while she didn't fully understand the dynamic of the neighbourhood, she'd gathered enough information between interactions with the parents of Kenzie's friends and the explanations Stephanie Plum had given that she didn't let it take up too much space in her brain. She just accepted the peculiarities and moved on with her life wherever possible.

"Kenzie is upstairs with Michael, they're playing in his room," Jill explained, pausing in the hallway to close the door behind Grace. "Before we call them down, though, I'd like to have a word with you."

Oh boy. Here we go.

"Sure," Grace agreed, following the woman into the kitchen. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm just a little concerned about something that happened last night," Jill said. With both women closed off in the kitchen, Jill crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of what appeared to be iced tea. "Would you like something to drink?"

Grace shook her head no, too worried about what could have happened to cause the woman concern to think about consuming liquids. "What happened?" she asked. She managed to stop herself from reminding Jill that she should have called if there was anything at all wrong with Kenzie. She knew how the women in this town acted and she'd learned to wait for more information before jumping to the conclusion that something was wrong when they said it was.

"Well," Jill said, pouring herself a glass of the iced tea and taking a sip. "When I called them to come eat, they raced into the room with all of Michael's toy guns strapped to their bodies."

"Okay…" Grace said, not seeing the problem. Kenzie often dressed up as a soldier or a security specialist while she was playing. She liked to pretend she was a Rangeman operative, going around the house and checking the security measures in place, or stalking out her dolls and teddies as bad guys. She spent an equal amount of time playing hairdressers and tea parties, and outside kicking a ball around or climbing trees. Her interests were diverse and her imagination strong. Grace may be new to the whole stepmom thing, but she knew that stifling a child's creativity was never a good thing.

Clearly, though, Jill didn't share the same viewpoint because her lips pressed together at Grace's response. "I told them to take them off. We have a no toys at the dinner table rule," Jill told her primly.

Grace just nodded. Lester had had the same rule in place for Kenzie since long before Grace had ever come on the scene, but it was sometimes stretched if she was deep in a game and the toy in question didn't distract from the task of eating.

"But they refused," Jill informed her, her spine straightening at the audacity of the children to show such defiance. "They said they weren't toys they were weapons for their protection."

"They were playing pretend," Grace said, knowing it was an obvious statement, but needing to remind the woman that they were just kids, and they were just playing. Surely, she could see that it was all make-believe.

Jill's grip tightened on the glass in front of her on the counter, and Grace got the impression that she wasn't winning her friendship with the direction of the conversation. "Yes," she stated through gritted teeth. "But when I tried to tell them, no weapons at the dinner table, McKenzie informed me that was a terrible rule. Unsafe, she said. And that apparently guns are always allowed at the dinner table at her house. Now, I understand that your husband works in security, but there are certain things that just don't line up with child safety. What if Ken-"

Grace held up a hand, schooling her features into some semblance of the blank stare that Lester and the other Rangemen seemed to be so fond of when they were trying to hide their emotions or intimidate people. She wasn't sure which was her goal right at that second since both cases had merit. She was annoyed with the narrow-mindedness of this woman, and the fact that she was implying that Kenzie's father or uncles would put her in danger. But she also wanted to make sure the woman knew she wasn't a push over.

"I assure you that my husband is always safe with his weapons," Grace told her, her tone firm as she worked to keep her posture loose. Nothing got her worked up like the prejudices the Rangemen received. "And he has ensured that both McKenzie and I know how to be safe around them as well."

"Which brings me to my concern," Jill said, grabbing her phone off the table and tapping away at the screen. Now it was Grace's turn to press her lips together. "I eventually relented and let the children keep their toys during dinner, only because it was a playdate. But when I went to check on them playing later, I found that they'd set up a shooting range in the den and Kenzie was teaching Michael how to shoot his Nerf guns properly. McKenzie's knowledge and vocabulary is alarming for a six-year-old girl. I really think you should try to censor what your husband says and does around your daughter. I mean, look at this!" Having apparently located what she wanted on the phone, she held it out, pressing play on the video.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Grace maintained her lack of expression as she watched the clip of the two children playing together. Inwardly, she was pleased as punch with what she was seeing, but she knew that wasn't the reaction Jill wanted or expected. No respectable Burg parent would be happy with that kind of behaviour from their daughter whether they were biologically related or not. It was one of the many reasons Grace was glad she wasn't a 'Burg parent.

"I see," she said when the clip ended, and Jill had taken back the phone. "It looks like a couple of kids having a great time playing make-believe at a sleepover. No different to if they were playing mommies and daddies."

Jill rolled her eyes and tossed the phone on the counter before fisting her hands on her hips. Her frustration was clear, and the expression forming on her face was the one that Grace had come to expect from the Burg mothers, especially when they found out that she was Kenzie's stepmother and new to the role to boot. "Yes, but mommies and daddies doesn't use in-depth knowledge of how firearms work."

Having heard enough on the topic and unwilling to bow to the ideals that Jill was trying to force on her, Grace stood straighter and gave a short nod. "You're right," she agreed. "I'm sorry that this situation has caused you distress. If you could send me that video, I'll be sure to talk to Lester about it." At no point did she apologise for Kenzie's behaviour, nor did she have plans to do so. Instead, she expressed her regret that Jill was unable to see that the games had brought the children joy, and that she couldn't set aside her controlling nature for a few moments to let them explore different characters and figure out who they were as people. She'd used the same tone and techniques to calm angry customers at the salon.

"Thank you," Jill said on a sigh that seemed to melt away all the tension that had been building not just in her body but the kitchen as well. She picked up the phone, hit a few buttons, and set it down again as she strode to the door. "I'll go get the children."

A minute later, Grace stood at the bottom of the stairs in the front hall as Kenzie and her friend Michael came bounding down the stairs, huge grins on their faces. "Mama!" Kenzie enthused, launching herself off the third stair from the bottom and fairly tackling her stepmother in a tight hug.

"Did you have fun with Michael?" Grace asked, returning the embrace. She pulled back after a moment, tucking a loose strand of Kenzie's un-brushed, shoulder-length hair behind her ear.

Kenzie's grin widened, revealing the gap where her front teeth were missing as her eyes sparkled just the same way her father's did when he was excited about something. "Yep!" she said, nodding vigorously. "We had pizza for dinner and played with his Legos. I built a fortress and Michael made a jeep to patrol the perimeter."

"Sounds awesome," Grace smiled. "Are you ready to go home?" At Kenzie's repeated nod, she tacked on another reminder in the form of a question. "What do you need to do before we go?" It had taken a bit of practice, but Grace thought she was starting to get a handle on Lester's gentle parenting style. It was wildly different to how she'd played the role of makeshift guardian to her younger sister growing up, with lots of yelling and commanding, but she counted that as a good thing. Her relationship with Emily had suffered because of the authoritative stance she'd taken, and it had been years before the sisters managed to come together and mend bridges. She knew that it had taken a toll on her own mental health and could only imagine what it had been like for her sister, growing up in that environment.

Lester had explained that after Kenzie's mother had died, he realised that he'd been given the opportunity to give his daughter the best possible chance to grow into a confident, well-adjusted member of society, and had taken advice from his own parents alongside the words from experts to develop a relationship with Kenzie that would benefit her as she developed. Rather than giving instructions all the time, he asked questions, such as the one that Grace had just used, that required Kenzie to think through the actions that she had already taken and what actions she needed to take next. They were reminders and nudges, enabling Kenzie to use her knowledge and make decisions for herself.

"I'll get my bag!" Kenzie exclaimed, racing back up the stairs, Michael on her heels. She was back quick as a flash, her pink overnight bag slung over her shoulder as Teddy hung out the top zipper. "Thank you for having me Mrs. Watford," she said sweetly, smiling up at Jill. "I had a lot of fun."

"You're welcome, McKenzie," Jill replied, showcasing her impeccable Burg manners that apparently stopped just short of minding her own business. It was true of most Burg dwelling creatures.

"See you at school, Michael!" Kenzie added, wrapping her arms around her friend for a brief hug before grabbing Grace's hand and bounding out of the house and down the front steps. Halfway down the path to the car on the street, though, she paused, dropped the bag, and bounded back to the porch where Michael and his mother were standing, waiting to wave them away. "Almost forgot!" she said by was of explanation as she reached behind herself and pulled a small Nerf gun out of the back of her shorts, handing it to Michael. With the weapon returned to its rightful owner, she jumped down the stairs and skipped back to Grace's side.

Grace was smiling and shaking her head, just imagining the kind of what-will-the-neighbours-think thoughts that were running through Jill's head. She picked up the bag as her daughter tucked her hand into her own, swinging them back and forth as they continued down the path to the car.

*o*

That night, while Grace and Lester were stood side by side at the kitchen bench, preparing dinner, Grace brought up the confrontation she'd had with Jill.

"Michael's mom wanted to speak to me when I picked Kenzie up," she started, passing him the last of the carrots she'd just finished peeling so that he could cut them up.

"Oh?"

Grace kept her expression carefully neutral as she continued to explain, knowing that her husband would read into her statements a certain way. "She's concerned about Kenzie's weapons safety knowledge," she said, turning away to scrape the peels into the trashcan and allow herself a break of expression when Lester started in with his reply exactly the way she'd predicted.

"Kenz has excellent weapons safety knowledge," he said, sounding bewildered. "What was the area of concern, we can organise a refresher with Cal and-"

Unable to school her expression as she turned back, she cut him off with a laugh and a hand on his arm, forcing him to lower the knife he'd been gesturing with. "Les," she said to make sure she had his full attention before continuing. "The fact that Kenzie has excellent weapons knowledge is the problem. Jill doesn't think it's appropriate for a six-year-old girl to know that much about guns."

Lester shook his head in disappointment more than disbelief. He knew what the Burg was like, so he wasn't shocked by the reaction. "With my line of work, I beg to differ," he said, and before he could wade deeper into the rant that Grace could sense he was gearing up for, she agreed with him.

"I know," she said in a you're preaching to the choir here tone.

"What did you say?" Lester wanted to know.

"That I was sorry that the situation caused her distress and that I'd talk to you about it."

Lester nodded approval, acknowledging that Grace had not fallen victim to the bullying Jill had attempted to inflict on her. "And now that we've spoken about it?" he prompted.

"Well, nothing needs to change," Grace said slowly, wiping her hands on a tea towel and digging her phone out of her pocket. "But I do need to show you the video Jill took of our daughter's offensive behaviour."

She hit play on the device and propped it up against a container on the upper portion of the counter so that they could both see and she had her hands free to wrap around Lester's waist.

On the screen, Kenzie and Michael stood in the living room of the Watford family home. They'd arranged an end table with two art easels on either side to simulate a booth at the gun range, and on the table was a container of foam bullets for the toy gun Michael held. They each wore their audio headphones as ear protection with the trailing cords tucked into their pockets so they wouldn't trip on them. At the far end of the room, an A4 piece of paper with the outline of a person with several crosshairs drawn on it in marker had been taped to a coat hanger that hung from the arm of a multi-directional floor lamp.

As the camera zoomed in on the children, Kenzie adjusted Michael's posture so that he was properly aligned to shoot the target, instructing him to remove the safety, line up the shot, keep his body relaxed, and exhale as he squeezed the trigger.

"You moved the muzzle when you pulled the trigger," Kenzie pointed out after he'd taken the first shot. "That's why you missed the target. You need to keep everything still once you have your sights on the target. Straight back. And the only thing that moves should be your trigger finger."

She stepped back to allow Michael to try again, and even though Lester knew the toy guns weren't made for accuracy, with Kenzie's instructions, the boy managed to hit the target on his second attempt. The video ended with Michael placing the Nerf gun back on the table and turning to give Kenzie a high five as she praised his work.

"That's my girl," Lester grinned down at his wife. He was immensely proud not only of the knowledge his daughter had displayed during her pretend play with her friend, but of the actions and stance Grace had taken when the boy's mother had tried to point out supposed faults in their parenting and Kenzie's personality. "Can you send that to me? I need to share it with the guys."

Grace reached up on tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. "I already emailed it straight to Cal," she said. "I imagine a good percentage of the guys have already viewed it."

"God, I love you," Lester intoned, capturing her mouth in a much deeper kiss as he gathered her into his arms, lifting her up to deposit her on the counter so that he didn't have to bend quite so far.

"Mama's sitting on a carrot," Kenzie announced nonchalantly a moment later as she entered the kitchen for a drink of water. She was used to seeing her father and stepmom make-out. Grabbing her cup from the counter, she collected some chilled water from the dispenser on the front of the fridge and sauntered out of the room, back to whatever game she'd been playing in the living room while her parents cooked.

"Is that what that is?" Grace asked, her eyes wide and innocent as she retrieved the carrot from under her thigh. "I thought it might have been your little soldier." She wiggled her eyebrows at him, almost managing to keep the joking smile off her face as she said it.

"Trust me, you'd know if it was my little soldier," Lester growled, giving her another hard, demanding kiss before returning her to the floor. "But if you really did think that puny carrot was me, I'm concerned about your presence of mind during last night's proceedings."

"Oh, don't you worry," Grace replied, lifting the carrot to her mouth and slowly, sensually wrapping her lips around it in much the same fashion she'd employed on Lester twenty-four hours earlier. She watched, satisfied, as Lester's eyes darkened, transfixed on the carrot as she slipped it out of her mouth. "There's no way I could forget the size of that weapon. And I'd say it's a pretty good deal we don't have a 'no weapons at the dinner table' rule like the Watfords do, wouldn't you?" she added sweetly, reminding him of how he'd repaid her for the attentions she'd given him. And as a smirk tugged at the left side of her lips, she bit the tip off the vegetable, eliciting a pained groan from her husband as she sauntered away to check the dish in the oven.

End