Monty saunters into the library with a pipe between his lips. Small, opaline bubbles swirl around his head. “My God! The Dukes are going to corner the entire frozen orange juice market!” he says.

Lewis pokes his head out from behind his laptop. He smiles.

An inside joke. The two brothers have watched Trading Places 137 times. They are partial to the work of Dan Aykroyd. Trading Places has taught them several important life lessons: commodity potential, humility, and the true value of money.

Lewis clicks away at his laptop while Monty stares out the window. He clasps his hands behind his back, adjusts the pipe in his mouth. The left lens of his tinted glasses flares in the sun. On every wall a clock is ticking, in perfect synchronicity; they move as a single unit. Each morning the family’s majordomo, Klaus, resets every clock in the house.

Outside, children are playing – heaving red rubber balls at one another. Sometimes, in their weaker moments, the boys wish to play ball games as well. Then they remember the words of their late father. You boys aren’t like other boys, he said. You boys are special. You boys have that one-in-a-million killer instinct. So be proud.

The clocks strike 9:30. The opening bell.

“Red balls, Lewis. Red balls,” Monty says, watching the kids crowd around a girl who just took a ball in the back of the head.

A few minutes later, the kids switch to blue balls. “Blue, Lewis! 10,000 in blue balls. Lewis, are you getting this?”

Lewis clacks away at the keys.

“Frisbees! Buy, buy, buy!”

“Kites, Lewis! Kites! Beautiful kites!”

“Apple juice, Lew! Boxes of it!”

Monty takes a deep breath and sinks into his favorite red leather chair. “Well done, Mortimer. A fine showing,” Lewis says, in his best impression of caducity. “How shall we celebrate?”

An ice cream truck climbs the hill and stops in front of the house. Its bells ring brightly …