I first met Dorothea Benton Frank—or, as I called her, Dottie—in the spring of 2005 after I bought her fourth book. From then until this novel, Queen Bee, I was honored to be both her editor and her friend.

She was a Queen Bee: hilarious, wise, sharp, and the best hostess and cook I’ve ever met. Every morning after she finished the New York Times crossword puzzle, she would either text me hilarious gossip or call and tell me a story with that familiar raspy voice and rich laugh.

How I miss her. She left behind a wealth of books as well as an upcoming picture book, Teddy Spaghetti, that she wrote with her daughter, Victoria Hanna Frank.

She passed away in September 2019 and we gathered in Charleston to mourn the passing of our beloved Dottie. I wanted to share a lovely letter from Victoria Hanna Frank, Dottie’s daughter, and the eulogy written by the incomparable Adriana Trigiani, New York Times bestselling author and one of Dottie’s many friends.

Warmly,

Carrie Feron

Letter from Victoria Hanna Frank

Dear Family of Readers,

It feels surreal to be writing this letter at my computer in place of my mother. The whole fact that we are releasing one of her books in paperback without her feels like a nightmare. But it isn’t; it’s real, and here I sit. How very saddened we all are without our Queen Bee, but through the sadness of this loss, I am able to focus on a few things that I would like to share.

First, I am addressing this letter to “Family of Readers” because that’s exactly what you are. Over the twenty-plus years of my mother’s writing career, she gained the love of some really wonderful people. Some of you have sent me baby gifts for my daughter, who is due any day now. Teddy, my son, won’t sleep without his crocheted little turtle that one of you sent him. When my mother passed, my father and I were drowned in support, love, and stories about how she touched y’all’s lives. Not just with her incredible stories, but sometimes with an act of kindness, or a conversation. All of our hearts are broken.

In her absence I have thought a lot about what I have left. At her funeral service, our family’s reverend reminded me that “I feel great loss because I had great love.” Nothing could be more true, because that is the price of great love. My mother and I were like twin souls. We spoke on the phone multiple times a day, not including texts, emails, or FaceTime calls. We lived almost a thousand miles apart but knew where the other was every minute. She was my momma, my hero, but most importantly, my ally.