Oil and Water | Ransom Drysdale (o.h)

Prologue

THREE YEARS EARLIER

The mansion tucked away in the countryside was pounding with the sound of music, tipsy laughter pulsating through the air. Florence Bollard stood off to the side, cradling a flute of champagne that had been forced into her hands by a stranger mere moments ago. It was the first party she was attending held by the Thrombey family, a lavish affair to celebrate the 4th of July, and would definitely not be her last.

The worst part was that she didn't even have to be here. In fact, Harlan's words when he had first extended the invitation were 'to not come unless she truly wanted to', but her fatal flaw had struck, her inability to say no, which had directly caused her presence at the party.

Her coveted internship under Harlan Thrombey had only lasted a couple of months, starting off initially as a summer internship before Harlan had decided to extend her internship, a result of both the man enjoying her company and their similar passions for writing and murder mysteries. The extension of the internship of her dreams had only strengthened Florence's need to come to this party that she had been invited to.

It was not her scene, the champagne, the finger food, the brash politics talk which always held an element of racism and the ear-splitting sounds of intoxicated people. Not that she didn't admire the Thrombey family, a tight family unit under a single patriarchal figure. It was the sort of family that she had longed for growing up, instead of the estranged holidays, the harsh words shouted over the turkey or her parents pulling her into a tight hug at the end of the night whispering that they were sorry but never did anything to change their behaviours...

A bump against her shoulder brought Florence back to reality, seeing Marta, Harlan's newly hired nurse, weaving through the crowd towards her employer. Glancing down at her watch and taking note of the time, Florence moved to follow Marta's path through the crowd, deciding that it was also time for her to leave.

However, as she made her way through the crowd, the slamming of the front door disorientated her for a mere moment. A swift view of a cream sweater in her peripheral even though it was July and a sweltering hot night, confirmed to Florence who had entered the party, Ransom Drysdale, Harlan's grandson.

She had heard a fair bit about Ransom from Harlan, the black sheep of the family with a flair for the dramatics that only matched Harlan's own. Someone who usually avoided family events such as this unless there was something he could gain out of it. Someone who Florence hadn't met yet thankfully because she could only tolerate the behaviour of the other Thrombey family members so much.

Florence continued her pathway towards Harlan and Marta, catching their attention as she headed towards them.

"I'm going to head off Harlan. Don't want to get home late." Florence started. "I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning."

"I'll see you then, Florence. Have a safe drive home." Harlan replied graciously as Florence turned to leave. "Also Florence!" Harlan called after her.

"Yeah?" Florence replied spinning back around.

"Thank you for coming tonight. You know that you can say no to coming to these sorts of events, okay? I personally don't even enjoy them besides the fact that the whole family is together."

"Yeah, I know I can. But I do enjoy them so don't worry." Florence returned with a smile, shifting her eyes to Marta who was watching the exchange. "See you, Marta, look after yourself."

Florence turned back around to head towards the front door, her head tilted down to avoid being spotted by the gathering of the Thrombey adults having caught the current topic of discussion. The front door was within sight, her ticket of freedom just held out of tantalising reach when she crashed into a hard chest.

"Oh sorry." Florence quickly apologised, looking up into steel-blue eyes.

"That's fine." Ransom Drysdale replied. "What's your name?"

"Florence. I'm an intern under Harlan." Florence replied nervously.

"The writer?" He questioned as Florence nodded in response. "So Flo, is it alright if I call you Flo?"

"Yeah, it's fine."

"Well Flo, do you dance?" Ransom asked.

"What sort of dancing? Because I can pull off a pretty good moonwalk." Florence joked. 

"More the formal type." He started, cracking a small smile at her joke. "Would you like to dance with me?" 

"Where?" Florence questioned looking around the crowded halls of the house and the living room filled with furniture. 

"Here." Ransom returned, picking up Florence's hand and dragging her to the middle of the living room, where he began to move the coffee table as a vase placed on it crashed to the ground. "Oops." He muttered, kicking the pieces under the couch for someone else to find. 

Florence made a mental note to clean it up later, her usual response of immediately cleaning a mess such as the broken vase lost somewhere behind the eyes staring into hers or the hand around her waist as the two began to dance in the middle of the living room. 

Eyes fell on the couple immediately, whispers starting in the portion of the partygoers who weren't completely inebriated, however as fireworks started painting the night sky with their colours, the attendees were very easily distracted away from the colours.

Florence and Ransom continued dancing in the middle of the room, paying the fireworks no mind despite the occasional burst of colour that crossed their faces as Harlan Thrombey from his position in the corner shook his head slightly at the sight.