A small ivory case. Your heart skipped a beat. Could it be?
You reached in, retrieving it from the packing material, and popped it open. Nestled in a bed of purple velvet was a polished silver chain coiled around a brilliant blue turquoise pendant in a silver setting. Grandma's necklace!
That was how you knew it. In fact, it was your mother's necklace. But she had always referred to it as such to distinguish it from her other necklaces. It was special to her, and not just because it was beautiful. Sentimental value, maybe; Grandma had given it to her for her sixteenth birthday, and you'd heard once that she'd received it from her mother (your great-grandmother) when she turned sixteen as well.
You never dreamed that Mom would pass it down to you though. Sure, she'd caught you playing with it (and her other jewellery) as a kid, and teased you a bit that "maybe you can have it when you're older." Sure you'd admired it and sometimes even dared to wonder what it would look like on you. But you were a boy. Boys didn't wear pretty jewellery.
Did they?
Why hadn't she given it to your sister? You looked back at the note again, flipping it over to see more writing on the back.
"I hope you'll like it. It's traditional to give this to a daughter on their 16th birthday, but Beth told me once she didn't want a superstitious old relic. It's supposed to bring out your true inner beauty & help find the perfect husband -- but Beth says she doesn't want to get married. Maybe you can give it to your wife."
Beth -- full name Bethany -- was your older sister, and now that you thought about it you weren't too surprised. She was never into "girly" stuff, or magic, and didn't seem super interested in boys. You blushed a bit at the way Mom described it, imagining yourself looking for a husband. You shook the weird idea off, and felt happy that Mom had entrusted it to you, even if you were... a tiny bit disappointed that she didn't seem to think you could wear it yourself.
Setting the case on the dining room table, you reverently pulled the necklace from its cushion. And, as you admired it, the desire in you to put it on grew overwhelming.
Well, why not? It was yours now. Nobody needed to know; what harm could it do? You took a deep breath, then rushed to the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, you held the necklace up to your chest, the turquoise almost seeming to glow against your striped t-shirt. The need to put it on increases, and you swallowed your anxiety about being caught wearing it.
You were a bit worried about getting it on, actually, never having worn a necklace before; but you managed to clasp it behind your neck with surprising ease. As the solid weight of the pendant settled against your collarbone, you shiver. Is it anticipation? Or just the cold metal on your skin?