She pointed at the vehicle.
"My car!"
At that moment, a neighbor appeared on the sidewalk.
He had been walking his dog when he noticed the silver SUV sitting unusually low in the dark mulch.
He slowed.
Looked at the vehicle.
Then at Brenda.
Then at Arthur.
"Everything okay?"
Brenda turned sharply.
"No! My car is stuck!"
The neighbor examined the scene.
He looked at the mulch bed.
Then at the curb.
Then at the tires buried in the loose material.
He pressed his lips together.
Arthur could tell he was trying not to smile.
Another neighbor emerged from a nearby house.
Then another.
Within minutes, several people were standing along the sidewalk, looking toward the corner.
Nobody had planned a gathering.
There was no neighborhood event.
But the sight of Brenda Kensington's silver SUV sitting in the middle of a freshly landscaped garden bed was unusual enough to attract attention.
And Cedar Ridge was the kind of neighborhood where unusual events traveled quickly.
Someone asked what had happened.
Another neighbor explained that Brenda had driven onto Arthur's lawn.
A third pointed toward the mulch.
The story began spreading before anyone had even decided what to call it.
Brenda noticed the growing audience.
Her face reddened.
She turned back toward Arthur.
"You need to get this car out!"
Arthur looked at the SUV.
"I don't have the equipment to tow a vehicle."
"Then call somebody!"
"You can call a towing service."
Brenda stared at him.
For a moment, she seemed to expect him to apologize.
Or offer to pay.
Or admit that his landscaping project had somehow been directed at her.
Arthur did none of those things.
He simply stood beside the new garden bed, looking at the vehicle that had driven onto it.
Brenda marched back to the SUV.
She climbed inside.
Closed the door.
And started the engine again.
Arthur stepped away from the vehicle.
The engine revved.
The tires spun.
Loose mulch shifted beneath them.
The SUV rocked slightly, but the front wheels remained trapped.
Brenda tried reversing.
Then moving forward.
Then reversing again.
Each attempt disturbed more of the loose material.
The vehicle settled unevenly.
A neighbor called from the sidewalk.
"Maybe you should stop spinning the tires!"
Brenda ignored him.
She tried once more.
The engine rose sharply.
The wheels turned.
The SUV moved perhaps an inch.
Then stopped.
Finally, Brenda shut off the engine.