Mary Jo Salter


"Garbo," the place is called, but for some reason, there's an enormous Elvis above the counter; also some bleak photographs of Nantucket taken last summer by a high school senior whose "collage fund" a presumably misspelled note invites you to endow; some bright red gingham placemats suggesting an Italian motif; in a somewhat dusty wicker basket, muffins dense as doorknobs from the adjoining health food store.



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