Rosaria was fairly certain that one of her nieces had given it to her last.
It was an ugly jewelry set - a really ugly set, consisting of two rings, three bracelets, a necklace, a barrette, and clip-on earrings.
As far as Rosaria could tell, it had never been worn completely.
It was magical - it practically vibrated it - and that was why one of them had probably picked it up, wherever it had come from.
But if you had it in your possession for too long, it started to demand to be worn. And when you’d put on even one piece of that, then the compulsion, the oh, I should wear all of it, started to chew at you.
Which was fine, if you were in a nursing home (which no member of their family ever was, except that one time) or a hermit in a cave (ditto) and planning on seeing nobody ever again.
Rosaria knew from experience that each piece came with its own compulsion. Not just I should wear the whole set but I should go get...
Salt and pepper shakers. Old National Geographics. More ugly jewelry. It was as if the set had been created just to make people go to yard sales and flea markets and spend all their money.
She also knew from experience that it had to be gifted or sold. It couldn’t be tossed or stolen.
She’d had it long enough that she really ought to put it on, just once, before she passed it on...
She wrapped the box up in the brightest Christmas paper she could find, and then another layer, just for good measure. Stone. The young man would probably not be very tempted at all by this hideous set.
And if he was, well, then they’d see what her cousin did with this mess.