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brand-new pennies in ten unexpected places and gave five to each small Jackson.
    â€œHow do you do that?” asked a very interested Joshua.
    â€œMagic,” explained Corrie.
    There was still some light when a Jeep came down our driveway, bringing one of the Skye twins to baby-sit. Jill and Jen Skye were the teenage daughters of our friends John and Mattie Skye, and looked so much alike that I never knew which one I was talking to. But they both loved Joshua and Diana and both were at the top of our list of sitters.
    The Jeep stopped and a twin got out.
    â€œHi, Jen,” said Zee, saving me the usual confusion about which sister I was dealing with. “Come and meet Corrie Appleyard.”
    â€œHi,” said Jen to Corrie as they shook hands. “Zee told me why she needed a baby-sitter tonight, and my dad and mom were pretty excited when I told them that you were here on the island. I think they’re going to be there at the Moon Cusser.”
    â€œI’ll look forward to meeting them,” said Corrie in his courtly manner, as Joshua and Diana, who liked Jen as much as she liked them, crowded around her.
    â€œPerfect timing,” said Zee, looking at her watch. “Let’s head for Vineyard Haven.”
    The original Moon Cusser had been in Oak Bluffs, and for a while, back in the roaring sixties, had been a busy and successful place, certainly the island’s finest coffee-house. My father took me there a few times when I was little, so I could hear the folk performers who came to play their instruments and sing. The only ones I could remember were Ian and Sylvia, whose voices and harmonies I still had on some ancient, well-worn 33’s, but there had been many other performers, all part of the blossoming revival of folk music, which for a time had been a powerful alternative to rock and roll.
    The Moon Cusser II was in Vineyard Haven, and in this later age, when traditional, mostly acoustic music was not in strong favor with the younger crowd which spent millions at concerts and on disks and tapes, it still hung on, serving coffee and featuring musicians sometimes unknown to the fans of the latest musical fad. Always on the verge of going under, the café was a small miracle of its own kind. It was the sort of place that you might expect to find a man like Corrie Appleyard.
    The current Cusser was located in a battered building near the infamous Five Corners of Vineyard Haven, which is arguably the site of the worst traffic jams on Martha’s Vineyard (although others will spiritedly contend that the A & P-Al’s Package Store jam in Edgartown deserves the championship). The Cusser’s single room was small, clean, furnished with worn chairs and tables, its walls and ceiling decorated with posters and pictures of musicians. The coffee bar was against the far wall, and the small stage with its single mike was in a back corner.
    When we came in, there was already quite a crowd, relatively speaking, since a full house was a rarity at the Cusser. People looked up from their cups when we entered, and several straightened and then leaned over and whispered in their companions’ ears as they spotted Corrie’s guitar case.
    There was a “Reserved” card on a table next to the stage, and Corrie led us there.
    â€œA perk for the performer,” said Corrie in an almost whisper. “I called this afternoon and told them some friends would be with me and I wanted them close.”
    We sat, and a waitress wearing shorts, sandals, and a T-shirt was instantly there to take our orders. When she left, Aldo came over. Aldo ran the place. He shook hands all around.
    â€œGlad you could make it,” he said. He glanced around the room. More people were coming in. “Good house tonight. You’ve still got a lot of fans here, Corrie.”
    â€œGood to see them,” said Corrie.
    â€œWell, any time you’re ready, then.”
    Aldo walked back to the