By the time Mrs. Poe died, her children had been picked out, one by one, and sent to live with their respective new owners like a litter of puppies. Willem, the oldest, boarded a carriage and went to live with their grandparents. Rosalie, who was as sweet and helpful as could be, never even said goodbye and went to live with a wonderful young couple a few towns away.

That left Edgar awaiting his own new family in their rather tiny, bleak house. The Poe family hadn't had much money, and whatever belongings had been left had been packed away or sold within hours of burying Edgar's mother. His bed, his wooden pencils and notebooks, gone in an instant.
"Well, think of it this way." Willem had told him the night before he left. "It's going to be a fresh new start for all of us. Well, Rosalie and I, at least. You always were kind of strange. I'd be surprised if anyone adopted you...