Rhea stopped Diego as he walked through the M-Trak office door first thing in the morning. “Mr. Flores, you need to see this. My sister sent it to me. She reads everything online, and I know you need to read this.”

Diego leaned over Rhea’s shoulder and perused the computer screen. “What site are you reading?”

“It’s the Zephyr, Minnesota newspaper. They have a public forum, and I think it’s a lot more popular than the news. People make comments about local issues and discuss back and forth. It’s gets heated sometimes.”

“You still read newspapers in Minnesota?” asked Diego. “I know I’ve seen them for sale, but I thought everyone got their news from cable TV.”

“Yes, some of us still read newspapers, and I think the Zephyr paper absorbed two other papers a few years ago. What is all this about M-Trak and drug lords, though? Is there any truth there?”

Diego read through the comments. One person was driving the conversation, and the responses consisted mostly of, “I didn’t know that,” or, “Really?” or, “Does that surprise you?” Diego leaned closer to the screen to read the small type identifying the source of the primary information. It was three initials, “lws.”

“Do you have any ideas about the author?” asked Rhea.

Diego snarled, “Lewis! Of course. It’s all lies.” Alan mentioned his name as a thorn in his side. Apparently, Lewis wasn’t satisfied to attack only one of them. Diego knew in his gut that Lewis had found the wrong man for picking a fight.

“Lewis?”

“He’s a little asshole who lives in Coldbrook Bend. Damn, excuse my language, Rhea.”

“Coldbrook Bend? Why does he care about us?”

Diego stared into Rhea’s eyes. “Because he’s a racist prick? I don’t know. He has it in for Alan for some reason, and I think he’s trying to run him out of town.”

Diego saw the disbelief in Rhea’s eyes. “Do they still do things like that anymore? I know that you can watch evil town bosses tar and feather somebody in old Westerns on TV, but now? Running someone out of town? That’s crazy.”

“So what did he actually say about us?” asked Diego. He leaned in closer to the screen again and read more comments. “He thinks I have something to do with drug lords? Is that all you gringos ever think of when you think of Mexico? What about the resorts and the art and the temples in the South. It’s ridiculous. Mexico is a country of one hundred twenty million people. From my perspective, the United States of America is a warlike tribe attacking the rest of the world.”

“Warlike tribe?” asked Rhea.

“My city of Veracruz has been invaded four different times in the last two hundred years. Once was by Spain. Once was by France, and the last two were by the U.S.A. The last time was barely over one hundred years ago. You laid siege to my city in 1847 and occupied it for six months in 1914.”

“Wow, they don’t teach us that in high school history class.”

“And he thinks I must be involved with the drug trade. Why would he come up with that about me?”

“Read a little further down,” said Rhea.

Diego sighed heavily. “There’s no other explanation for the money I had available to invest when I opened my trucking company? Families become wealthy in Mexico the same way they do here. It’s inheritance and business ownership. He needs to learn how to do research, too.”

“Maybe you should ignore it, Mr. Flores. I see only one voice spreading the information. The others are figuratively standing around in a circle nodding their heads.”

Diego crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the back wall of Rhea’s office. He said, “Please don’t share this information outside of this office, but I think these little rumors are starting to impact our business.”

“What makes you say that?”

“We’ve had a rash of three different contracts canceled in the last month. None of them suggest that our performance is poor or that our prices are too high. They only share mysterious suggestions that someone in their company said they needed to hire a different shipping firm.”

“That’s not fair,” said Rhea.

“Business isn’t fair. I didn’t start M-Trak expecting that I was competing in a baseball game or a chess tournament. There are basic laws, but no one has written a code of rules.”

“What are you going to do, Mr. Flores? I’m on your side. I’ll follow any of your suggestions.”

Diego closed his eyes. He kept them shut for at least sixty seconds. When he opened them, he had an idea.

“I do like seeing the smile,” said Rhea.

“I’m going to show that I’m a businessman committed to the community. Do you have any connections to the real estate business in the Coldbrook Bend area?”

Rhea shook her head. “There’s none that immediately come to mind, but I’ll do some checking. I can get back to you on that tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is definitely early enough. I need to get to work, but if anything else like this pops up, please let me know right away.”

“Of course, Mr. Flores. I knew that you would want to know.”

Diego collapsed into his office chair. He leaned his head back and took three long, slow, deep breaths. When one part of life leaped forward three steps, something else always caused it to fall back two. After spending the night at Alan’s house, Diego knew that he should have expected something on its way to block his path forward.

Once he gathered his wits again, Diego placed a call to Minneapolis. His architect friend Mark answered on the third ring. He asked, “Have you decided where you want to build your home, Diego? Do you have a property in mind?”

“No, but I wanted to know if you work on corporate projects. I’m curious about a new headquarters for my company.”

“Is it a large corporation?” asked Mark. “We can do moderately-sized office buildings, but I advise you to look beyond us if you’re talking about a large corporate campus.”

Diego explained the need for an M-Trak office expansion, and, by the time he finished with the description, Mark said, “I think you’ve found your architect.”

Against his better instincts, Diego returned to reading the comments online. The man posting the primary comments leveled accusations that Diego was taking business away from American companies. That much was right, but it was happening due to his business instincts, not his national origin. His business was also enriching a team of American drivers.

Diego scanned the rest of the posts to see if his relationship with Alan was mentioned. He was relieved to discover that all of the comments connected back to his business. Lewis could potentially cause some harm in that arena, but Diego had cash resources to weather a financial storm. He couldn’t find another Alan.

Before attending to the rest of his work for the day, Diego buzzed Rhea at the desk. He asked, “Are chocolates still a good romantic gift?”

“They’re the best, Mr. Flores. If you’re placing an order, Crowley’s down by the riverfront are the best.”

“Thank you. You never steer me wrong.”

Diego found the phone number for Crowley’s Chocolates. He placed an order and arranged for delivery to Alan’s home. Thinking about Alan biting into a morsel of dark, rich, gooey chocolate, Diego closed his eyes and sighed. He needed another night with Alan soon.