When Bar­bara arrives at Marie Duchamp’s Vic­to­ri­an home on Ridge Road in Chap­ter 23, she imme­di­ate­ly sens­es the ten­sion between Marie and Olivia. The room is thick with unspo­ken words, and Olivia, vis­i­bly anx­ious, pre­pares to con­fess some­thing that has clear­ly been weigh­ing on her. With a hes­i­tant sigh, she reveals that she sub­mit­ted Barbara’s poet­ry to the pres­ti­gious Pen­ley Prize for Younger Poets with­out telling her, fear­ing that Bar­bara would nev­er have tak­en the step her­self. At first, Bar­bara is caught off guard, unsure how to respond to such a per­son­al deci­sion being made on her behalf in Chap­ter 23 of this unfold­ing sto­ry.

Olivia watch­es Bar­bara care­ful­ly, expect­ing anger or frus­tra­tion, but to her sur­prise, Bar­bara remains com­posed, more curi­ous than resent­ful. Bar­bara admits she is unfa­mil­iar with the Pen­ley Prize, but when Olivia explains that it is one of the most com­pet­i­tive lit­er­ary awards for young poets, spon­sored by New York’s Big Five pub­lish­ers, the weight of the rev­e­la­tion begins to sink in. To fur­ther shock her, Olivia shares that Barbara’s work has already been short­list­ed among nine­ty-five finalists—an unex­pect­ed hon­or that instant­ly changes the con­ver­sa­tion from an apol­o­gy to a seri­ous dis­cus­sion about Barbara’s future in poet­ry.

The Pen­ley Prize rep­re­sents far more than just recog­ni­tion; it offers a sig­nif­i­cant mon­e­tary award and, more impor­tant­ly, the oppor­tu­ni­ty to be pub­lished by a major press. This real­iza­tion unset­tles Bar­bara, who has always viewed her poet­ry as an intense­ly per­son­al craft rather than some­thing to be judged in com­pe­ti­tion. Though thrilled, she hes­i­tates, feel­ing an unspo­ken pres­sure that com­pli­cates her excitement—especially in light of her broth­er Jerome’s lit­er­ary suc­cess. She has nev­er want­ed to step into his shad­ow or com­pete for atten­tion, and now she finds her­self at a cross­roads, fac­ing an oppor­tu­ni­ty she nev­er sought but can­not ignore.

Marie and Olivia, rec­og­niz­ing Barbara’s inter­nal con­flict, reas­sure her that this recog­ni­tion is pure­ly her own—it is about her tal­ent and voice, not any­one else’s. Olivia empha­sizes that while writ­ing is per­son­al, shar­ing it with the world allows it to have mean­ing beyond the page, an idea that res­onates deeply with Bar­bara. After some reflec­tion, Bar­bara makes a deci­sion: she will move for­ward with the com­pe­ti­tion, but she will do so on her own terms. She asks Olivia to help her choose addi­tion­al poems for sub­mis­sion, deter­mined to refine her work while keep­ing the process qui­et from her fam­i­ly.

The con­ver­sa­tion shifts as Olivia takes on the role of a men­tor once again, encour­ag­ing Bar­bara to expand her lit­er­ary scope beyond poet­ry. She sug­gests read­ing more fic­tion and essays, explain­ing that great poets draw inspi­ra­tion from a vari­ety of sources, blend­ing rhythm, nar­ra­tive, and emo­tion in unex­pect­ed ways. Bar­bara, though slight­ly resis­tant at first, acknowl­edges the wis­dom in Olivia’s words and promis­es to explore new forms of writ­ing. She real­izes that broad­en­ing her lit­er­ary knowl­edge could help her grow not just as a poet but as a thinker and sto­ry­teller.

As the night pro­gress­es, the ten­sion gives way to cel­e­bra­tion, and Marie pours a mod­est toast in hon­or of Barbara’s unex­pect­ed lit­er­ary mile­stone. The three women, bound by their love of words and shared under­stand­ing, clink glass­es in qui­et sol­i­dar­i­ty, acknowl­edg­ing that suc­cess often comes in the most unex­pect­ed ways. The toast is not just for Barbara’s achieve­ment, but for the friend­ships and men­tor­ship that have guid­ed her along the way, prov­ing that some­times oth­ers see our poten­tial before we see it in our­selves.

Bar­bara leaves Marie’s house with a new sense of pur­pose, her mind rac­ing with pos­si­bil­i­ties she hadn’t con­sid­ered before tonight. The Pen­ley Prize is no longer just an abstract idea—it is a gate­way to some­thing big­ger, some­thing that could shape her future in ways she nev­er imag­ined. As she steps out­side into the cool evening air, she real­izes that whether she wins or not, she has already crossed an invis­i­ble thresh­old, step­ping into a ver­sion of her­self she is only begin­ning to under­stand.