I called her the Lexus Lady; she’d moved in next door. with her two girls and a young boy. I understood that dad worked at a restaurant in Sacramento and came home on alternate weekends. I watched from my yard as my cat, Sammy, stalked grasshoppers. Every summer evening, she stood on her cemented front yard ready to wash her silver Lexus. A galvanized bucket stood at her feet overflowing with suds. A sponge floated on top, the kind you buy in the auto parts department, not housewares. Dressed in low heels and a pants suit, she went to the side of the house and unwound a green hose from its caddy, walked slowly with the it tucked beneath her armpit as though she was in training for a bomb squad exercise. She sprayed the doors, roof, hood, everything done with great care and deliberation. Once she’d completed the first rotation, she went around again before motioning to her kids who stood at the side door. She opened the trunk and unfolded a pair of rubber gloves with sleeves that covered her elbows. The next twenty minutes were spent in washing the car with a steady circular motion, stopping to pin her hair back whenever a strand swooped into her eyes. She never seemed to get wet or to trip on the hose. Admiring her work, she signaled for her kids to turn on the water faucet, opened the trunk and assigned each one of her kids a rag. She always had the last wipe over the tire rims and the side windows. The car gleamed. She nodded and they all went inside. Most of their evening had been spent washing the car. I hoped they had enough time to make dinner. Sammy and I went inside also. I’d already had my vegetable soup. On weekends, her front lawn was like a show room open for business. I counted twenty people one Saturday standing around her Lexus, nodding and eating on paper plates. She took selfies of people standing in front of the car or waving from the passenger seat, but only her kids took pictures sitting behind the wheel. They hugged and sat with goofy grins giving the peace sign. The two girls came to my door one evening and said that their mother wanted to talk. They seemed nervous. The boy stood behind the girls and blinked. I looked out my door and saw the Lexus Lady standing in front of her car, arms crossed over her chest. The oldest girl pointed to the roof of the car and said that my cat was leaving foot prints all over the car’s silver hood. I stretched my neck and saw the prints. “But how do you know it’s my cat?” I asked. The Lexus Lady screamed and caused the nearby pine tree to drop every one of its needles. She levitated six inches from the ground and pointed at me.