She sat motionless behind the wheel.
Arthur could see her staring straight ahead.
The entire situation had become painfully public.
And the most embarrassing part was that nobody had forced her to drive onto the lawn.
She had done it herself.
After several minutes, Brenda opened the door and stepped out again.
She took out her phone.
Her movements were quick and irritated.
She walked toward the sidewalk, away from the growing group of neighbors, and called a towing service.
Arthur returned to the porch.
He picked up his coffee.
It had gone cold.
He took a sip anyway.
Across the yard, Brenda paced while speaking into the phone.
The tow company apparently asked where the vehicle was located.
Brenda looked toward the SUV.
She hesitated.
Then answered.
"It's on a lawn."
There was another pause.
She glanced toward Arthur.
"No, not my lawn."
Arthur looked down at his cup.
He could almost imagine the conversation on the other end.
The tow operator would have questions.
Where was the vehicle?
How far from the pavement?
Was it stuck in mud?
Sand?
Loose soil?
And how had it gotten there?
Brenda continued pacing.
Finally, she ended the call.
"They'll be here in about an hour," she announced.
Arthur nodded.
"All right."
Brenda looked at him sharply.
"That's all you have to say?"
"What would you like me to say?"
She opened her mouth.
Then looked toward the neighbors.
Several were still standing nearby.
One had begun discussing the depth of the mulch with another homeowner.
A woman across the street shook her head while looking at the SUV.
The situation had become a neighborhood spectacle.
Brenda, who normally enjoyed being the person explaining rules to everyone else, was now the person whose vehicle had to be pulled out of someone else's yard.
She clearly hated it.
Arthur did not celebrate.
He did not laugh at her.
He did not make a speech.
He simply returned to his landscaping.
There was still mulch left to spread around the other sections of the garden.
He picked up his shovel and began working.
The sound of the shovel moving through the dark material was steady and ordinary.
Behind him, Brenda continued waiting for the tow truck.
Every so often, Arthur heard her speaking to someone on the sidewalk.
He did not turn around.
There was no need.
The problem had reached the point where it no longer required an argument.
The physical reality of the situation was doing all the explaining.
Nearly an hour later, a tow truck turned onto the street.
Its diesel engine echoed between the houses as it approached the corner.
The driver slowed when he saw the SUV.
Then he stopped.
For several seconds, he remained behind the wheel.