Monday morning and the mystery of whether that is Mary on the flap of Paul Auster’s new book has finally been solved. It’s her, it’s her, it’s her. I can tell this is going to be a great week. Here’s the missive from Mary.

I finally bought "Brooklyn Follies."  It ISN’T me holding the beach ball on the front cover because, as Austin Powers would say, "That’s a MAN, baby." (In addition to be much photographed throughout my life, I have been mistaken several times for a man in real life. Seriously. Despite lipstick.)

However, if you look at the back flap, (near the author’s portrait) there is a woman in a black jacket and light jeans. And I am 99 percent certain it’s me.

I bought the book at Seventh Avenue Books and told the owner as he rang it up that I thought I was on the flap. He looked and agreed it might be me. He then asked for $25.07. I gave him $26.00 and said I didn’t have any change. He said, "Well, seeing as I’m running out of change and you are a celebrity, I won’t charge you the seven cents."

So, being on the Auster back flap is paying off all ready. If I carry the book around with me, will I get free drinks at local establishments? Perhaps Second Street Cafe will give me a half-priced coffee.

At home, I took out a magnifying glass. Under magnification, I still think it is me. And my husband and four-year-old think so too. My 2-year-old also has declared, "That’s Mama." Unfortunately she was pointing to the photo of Paul Auster. "That’s a man, baby!"