As wartime constraints tightened, June managed cascading shortages: repair parts denied by the War Production Board left equipment broken, three porters were drafted, and clothing restrictions unsettled staff. She tried to steady nerves in the canteen while recognizing a mounting war fever, all as the detained diplomats grew bored by their curtailed activities and the omnipresent security transformed the resort into a de facto detention center.

Early March brought painful departures. Angela Bickenbach left under her American citizenship, parting from her husband Gerhard Bickenbach, while two other American wives departed with their children, leaving distressed families behind. Staff and guests watched from the windows, feeling both empathy for the separations and envy for the freedom to leave—sentiments June did not want the sweetwater to absorb.

To ease tensions and boredom, June appealed to the Swiss liaisons for permitted activities and learned that detainees could access Approved Printed Materials: a single newspaper and selected novels, excluding topics like infrastructure, insurrection, and escape, and even a specific pulp title. She mobilized staff to gather suitable books from the hotel’s holdings and planned a lavish literary event to remind guests—and the water—what happiness felt like.

During the event in the Tapestry Room, June distributed novels to an eager crowd that included staff like German nanny Emmi Polk, who rarely enjoyed such functions. June discovered a hidden note inside a book from Agent Tucker Rye Minnick warning about how easily messages could be passed via books and summoning her to the Smith Library, underscoring security’s scrutiny of her efforts.

A sudden, machine-perfect scream shattered the party. Hannelore Wolfe, daughter of Sabine and Friedrich Wolfe, stood in the center, fists clenched, emitting evenly spaced cries. As guests withdrew at a signal from Friedrich, senior Germans Friedrich Wolfe, Lothar Liebe, and Dr. Otto Kirsch converged. Sabine explained the trigger was a limit of one book.

Dr. Kirsch calmly produced a syringe while remarking on Hannelore’s brilliance, muteness, and the tragedy of her condition, expressing a chilling belief that the future would prevent such “handicaps.” He administered a sedative as Friedrich turned Sabine away, and Hannelore fell quiet in her father’s arms. The men offered Sabine measured praise and normality, revealing a practiced routine. June, disturbed by the sedation and the ideology behind Kirsch’s comments, wrestled with her role as host to Nazi officials even as she asked how she might help.

Sabine rebuffed June coldly, insisting there was nothing June could do. The party’s crafted joy gave way to a heavy silence, leaving June to confront the personal cost of maintaining hospitality amid war and the unsettling power dynamics within the German delegation.